


Voice of Rage and Ruin

by Qayin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bodyguard Derek Hale, Bodyguard Romance, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune, pre-Sterek - Freeform, sterek, void!Stiles, weaponized magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qayin/pseuds/Qayin
Summary: Derek is hired as a bodyguard to this kid, Stiles. And the thing is, Stiles seems completely harmless, but everyone keeps telling Derek how he needs to be careful. Stiles is a nogitsune, a human possessed by a powerful deity of chaos and void, and not only does other people want him for his power, but he could potentially hurt others; and then it’s Derek’s job to protect those people — from his client.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 124
Kudos: 465





	1. Silver

Derek followed down a long corridor of white walls and tall windows. On the other side was a perfectly trimmed garden in a Japanese fashion, with beautiful, twisted trees and a pond with some koi-fish. Christopher Argent, a total badass and his new boss was catching him up on everything he needed to know now when he was in the house. 

Good thing Derek was great at directions, because he had already received a heavy instruction manual to read cover to cover before he even started, and an hour and a half of introduction where he and a few other new guards got up to speed. 

Derek’s job was slightly different from the rest of the new recruits, though. While they were security, he would be the personal body guard of his client; the last line of defence if things were to go to shit. Derek was expected to lay down his life to protect him, and god, was he paid well in compensation. 

He knew the last line of defence had died on the job, but he wasn’t particularly worried. He was a wolf, and he doubted anyone would get past him. Not to mention the previous guy’s death seemed to have upped security around this place, if the new hires were anything to go on. 

“How long have you been doing this job, Hale?” Argent asked even though Derek knew he was aware. Argent had hand-picked every single person there, and Derek’s work-experience was written in his file. 

He gazed at a painting, also white, with nothing except a dark hole in the middle. Modern art. He didn’t get it. 

“Ten years,” he answered. Argent opened a door and invited him into his office. 

“You were on Deucalion?” Argent asked and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the chairs standing in front of the desk. Derek nodded and sat as directed. 

“Bad business,” Argent said and shook his head, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “I heard you were the one who took Blake down in the end?” 

“Yes,” Derek said. Jennifer Blake’s mutilated body flashed in front of his eyes, and the way his claws shredded into her and tore her apart, too. He had heard her bones break, and at the same time he heard the magic around her snap, like a rubber band breaking. 

Except that the sound of her magic had been one of the worst things he had ever experienced; like all that was good in the world also got destroyed in that snap, catching fire and burning with a fire greater than a thousand suns. 

His therapy had been extensive, and his magic counsellor had told him that really powerful magic could have that psychological effect on a person, even on one as strong as a wolf. 

“It said in your file you have experience with magic,” Argent said. Derek nodded. 

“Besides taking down Blake, I have a masters in advanced parapsychological defence, with focus on deflection.” Derek said. While people studied for years to be able to weaponize magic, Derek had spent years learning how to dismantle it. He was practically a specialist in removing a magical threat. 

Argent nodded, impressed and leaned back in his seat. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, Hale,” he said. “No matter what you’ve seen before; you haven’t seen anything like this.” 

“So the manual led me to believe,” Derek said. 

It had a response to practically every situation that could possibly happen. There was even a chapter on what to do if the Japanese mafia tried to infiltrate the house. Protect the client, at all cost, even if it meant dying for him. And Derek’s last command, above everything else; if his death couldn’t ensure the client’s survival, Derek was supposed to eliminate the client himself before anyone had the chance to get their hands on him.

Derek didn’t quite know what was going on, and he didn’t want to know, really. This level of security and these kinds of rules only meant one thing; his client was a weapon of mass-destruction and if the United States government couldn’t have him they wanted to make damn sure no one else got a hold of him. 

“I doubt that this job will be as exciting as your last one,” Argent said with a shake of his head. “But if push comes to shove, I hope you’re ready.” 

“I am, Sir,” Derek replied. “And I could use a little quiet.” 

Argent smirked like he knew a joke Derek did not. 

“Want my advice?” he asked. Derek knew better than to turn someone like Argent down, so he nodded. “Become his friend. You’ll have an easier time.” 

Derek watched him critically and nodded slowly. “I’ll take that into consideration, Sir.” 

“Do you have your charm?” Argent asked, his voice growing grimmer. Derek picked forth the silver ring he had stashed in his pocket. He had been told to find something of deep, sentimental value for him, which would be used to bind him together with his client and make it impossible for them to be separated for more than ten metres until Derek was relieved from his job.

It was his dad’s wedding-ring, which he had been given after he bemoaned the fact that he didn’t have any sentimental possessions to use as a charm. Derek’s dad had given him a humorous look and said he could give it back to him when he was done. And then he had winked. 

Argent held out a hand for it and Derek dropped it in his waiting palm. He watched Argent observe the ring for a good moment before he nodded, satisfied. 

“Silver?” he asked. Derek nodded. Argent didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would crack a joke about silver and werewolves not going together, and for that he felt kind of glad. “Okay, introductions seem in order.” 

Argent stood up and gestured for Derek to follow him again, and they stepped out of Argent’s office and further down the corridor they’d walked in before. They reached a door and Argent swiped his key-card and the door unlocked. Argent took the handle, pulled the door open and gestured for Derek to step in first. 

Whatever Derek had been expecting, stepping into what was essentially a fancy living room was not it. On one wall there was a big flat screen TV, and on the other side there was a modern — and uncomfortable looking couch. 

On the couch, a kid was sprawled out, with dark brown hair that was gelled up in a spiky fashion. He was dressed in a graphic t-shirt and sweatpants, and he kept his amber eyes glued onto the game of Call of Duty he was playing on the TV. 

When they stepped in the kid glanced their way for a brief second and nodded. 

“Sup, Chris,” he said and turned his attention back to the TV. “How’s Allison?” 

“She’s good,” Argent said, seemingly completely unfazed by whatever this was. “Stiles, this is your new bodyguard, Derek Hale.” 

The kid didn’t grace him with a glance. 

“Cool,” he said, but his tone suggested that he found it anything other than thrilling. 

Argent gave Derek a look that he couldn’t distinguish and then walked over and stood in front of the TV. The kid on the sofa started to complain, straining his neck to see around the other. 

“Stiles,” Argent said, sounding like a disapproving father. Slowly the kid lowered his controller and rolled his eyes, then he slid off the couch in a languid motion and gestured out his arms in a universal gesture of  _ ‘what?’ _

Argent held out Derek’s ring. The kid sighed and walked over, and took the ring. He winced. 

“Silver, really?” He shook his head and turned to watch Derek. The kid raised an eyebrow and his mouth perked up, giving him a mischievous look Derek knew right away would cause him problems. “Well, alright then, wolfie, come over here.” 

Derek shot a glance to Argent, his face impassive, before he walked over. The kid held out his hand and Derek realized he meant for Derek to take it. 

Once their hands touched, Derek felt the familiar spark of magic against his skin and he suppressed a shudder. Magic was always a little odd to get used to, but the light contact he had told him that this kid was practically pulsing out with it. Not even Jennifer Blake had felt like this. 

“This is gonna suck,” the kid said cheerfully. Derek felt the magic push against his hand. The kid was smiling, but his eyes were growing darker. The room was dimming. Or rather, all light appeared to start being sucked from their light sources and towards the kid. Soon only the kid’s eyes held any light at all. 

Derek felt himself grow weak. He felt short of breath and his wolf inside of him howled in pain. The kid placed his other hand over Derek’s and suddenly it was like something burned Derek’s skin. 

The howl broke forth from his throat unwillingly. It was full of anguish, pain, and above all, exhilaration. The kid tossed his head back and howled, too, and something in it pulled at Derek’s blood. 

And then the pain stopped. The light returned to the room. The kid looked normal again and dropped his hand. When Derek looked down on his aching, sensitive hand he saw the silver ring attached to his ring-finger and he knew without attempting it that he wouldn’t be able to take it off. 

The kid raised his left hand and showed off an exact replica of the silver ring. He flashed it off to Derek and then made a great show of showing it to Argent. Argent nodded, apparently satisfied with this. 

“Why don’t you show Derek around, Stiles?” he said. 

“What’s to see?” the kid scoffed but gestured for Derek to start walking. 


	2. Cage

Derek eventually had to accept that his early assessment placing Stiles as a kid might have been a bit hasty. After Stiles showed him around the house, or the parts of the house Stiles was allowed to move freely through, Derek had some time to watch him. 

His client looked very young, but Derek thought that was a case of baby-face, rather than actual teenhood. If he had to guess, he’d put the kid between 20 and 25, rather than the teen he had previously thought him to be. 

They stopped in the kitchen and Stiles made tea, which he also offered to Derek. 

_‘Become his friend,’_ Argent’s voice echoed in his head, so Derek accepted a mug and blew on it carefully. 

His client was a talker, that was for sure. In the first ten minutes he had talked about everything from the discovery of penicillin to voluntary apnea, a survival mode the body apparently entered when it was drowning, refusing to let water in until it felt like the head would explode. He was now talking about the history of male circumcision and Derek didn’t like the thoughtful glances he kept casting Derek’s body, like he at any moment would ask him if he was circumcised or not. 

“So, wolfie,” Stiles said and peered at him over the rim of his cup. “You’re here to protect me, huh?” 

“Yes,” Derek said. The kid drummed his fingers over the kitchen island in a fast rhythm. 

“Do you know that the last guy died?” he asked. 

“I’m aware.” 

“That doesn’t bother you?” Stiles asked. Derek shrugged. 

“It’s a dangerous world.” he said. Stiles tossed his head back and laughed, and something about it made Derek feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t that Stiles seemed like a bad or even dangerous kid — and Derek had worked for people who practically _invented_ the word bad guy — but there was something about him that felt… off to him. 

There was a wall of energy radiating off of him, for starters. Derek had felt it the moment he stepped into the same room as him, and the feeling had only grown since Stiles had touched his skin. Now it felt like something was tugging between his finger and Stiles, and it all boiled down into the rings that bound them together. 

“That it is,” Stiles said after he stopped laughing. His amber eyes watched him brightly, sparkling in a way Derek wasn’t sure was natural. “So, what do you do when you’re not a militant sourwolf with eyebrows made out of pure spite and judgement?” 

Derek raised his eyebrows and watched him. Stiles grinned and sipped his tea. 

“Sourwolf?” he repeated. Stiles hummed in agreement. Derek shook his head, amused besides himself. “I used to work for Deucalion, and spent two rounds deployed over sea.” 

“Espionage?” Stiles cheeked, practically purring. Derek sipped his tea and said nothing. 

“So, do you date?” Stiles asked. “Have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow again. Stiles gave him a look. 

“Come on, Dude, I’m stuck in here all day, I need to live vicariously through everyone else,” he said with a whine, then broke out in a blissful grin. “Please tell me you’re in the midst of a lover’s quarrel; or that the love of your life recently died in your big, muscular arms.” 

“Nothing so dramatic,” Derek said and shook his head. To be honest, his job didn’t exactly leave room for dating. He had some casual hook-ups, but that was all they were. Had been that way for a while. His parents often asked when he was going to settle down and carry on the family legacy and they were only mostly joking. 

“Shame,” Stiles said with a pout. Derek looked him over, then glanced around the kitchen. 

“You’re here all the time?” he asked. Stiles shrugged. 

“Well, unless I’m summoned.” he said drily. “I have half a day every other month when I’m allowed to visit my dad.” 

Derek watched him. “Sounds kind of rough.” 

Stiles grimaced but quickly slipped on that mischievous grin instead. 

“Ah, well, he’s the sheriff, so at least he has stories I can live through.” 

Unlike you, Stiles' disapproving look seemed to say. 

“No other visitations?” Derek asked. Stiles drummed his fingers against the kitchen island to that fast beat. 

“People are allowed to visit every Friday. My dad usually comes then, and a few friends I went to high school with, sometimes.” 

Derek did his best not to make a face. Stiles’ life was practically a prison; and even though their surroundings were decorated like a modern mansion a cage was a cage. He didn’t like being caged down. He was a wolf. He wanted to run freely under the full moon with his pack howling in his ears. 

“Is it just your dad around?” Derek asked. He knew his questions were kind of intimate, but Derek had just bound himself to not leave Stiles’ side. Intimacy was a thing they shared now, and it seemed like Stiles approached it kind of the same way. Or he was just incredibly nosy and that’s why he dug his claws into whatever private piece of information he could get hold of. 

“Yeah, mom died when I was a kid.” Stiles said, all pretend casualness. Derek hadn’t been able to catch an accurate scent from him yet, but at the mention of his mom Derek could finally smell some kind of emotion. He had expected sadness, of course, but the way it hit him practically knocked him out. He also sensed a hint of anxiety that he filed under things he needed to know about Stiles. 

“What about you?” Stiles asked. “Have pack somewhere?” 

Derek smiled besides himself. 

“Yeah, pretty big one,” he said. “My mom’s Alpha Talia Hale.” 

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me you were a celebrity?” Stiles said with a grin. Derek rolled his eyes. His mother’s name was a big deal everywhere he went, but Derek was making a name for himself, too. 

“Can I ask about your magic?” Derek asked. Stiles raised an eyebrow, sipped his tea and shrugged. 

“Well, considering we’re going to be stuck with each other, sure,” he said easily. Derek took the moment to watch him, then lowered his cup. 

“Is it hereditary?” he asked. Stiles laughed.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said. He tilted his head and watched Derek with almost hypnotic amber eyes. “Both yes and no. Technically it’s possession, but I am genetically susceptible for it.” 

Derek looked him over. The kid did have dark circles under his eyes and his skin was very pale, but he didn’t look as bad as some possession-cases Derek had seen. Just the other night he had watched the news of a possession happening in Chicago and the woman had turned rabid and killed herself before anyone had the chance to try and save her. 

There was a reason possession was classified so high on the SPARK-scale; because it was almost always fatal, both to the possessed and the surrounding people. But every once in a while there were cases of almost full mergence between the host and the spirit, and supercharges like Stiles could happen.

“It looks like you’re handling it pretty well,” he said. Stiles was allowed visitors, and to visit his dad every second month. That was definitely better than being drugged and tossed into a padded room for the rest of your life. 

Stiles’ fingers tapped on the island and it looked like he could read Derek’s mind in that moment. His face twisted into a grimace and his features looked sharper and more angular than it did before. 

“For now.” Stiles said silently. He seemed to physically shake himself out of whatever mood he was in and placed his finished cup in the dishwasher. “Come on, I’ll show you the bedrooms.” 

Derek’s bedroom was a modern thing with a low bed and night shelves built into the wall. It was as white and crisp as everything else, with some pops of colour with artistically chosen throw pillows and blankets. 

The lights were spotlights, and one wall had a wooden panel as a feature wall. It also had a small bathroom, and a door that led directly into an almost identical, mirrored room that was Stiles’, except when Stiles showed that room it was a lot messier than Derek’s. 

“It seems suitable,” Derek said and inspected the door that separated their rooms. It didn’t have a lock and there was no furniture in either room that could be pried loose and made to block the door. 

“You hate it,” Stiles said. Derek glanced at him and Stiles broke out in a cheerful, ringing laughter. When he was done he leaned against the closet — also built in and mounted to the wall — and smirked. “Not a fan of modern decor?” 

Derek shrugged lightly. “It’s suitable.” 

“No, you wouldn’t be, would you?” Stiles hummed thoughtfully. “Your style is more… raw.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow and glanced down at himself, wearing a black t-shirt and black trousers, and military style boots that he could run in. It was exactly the same as what every other guard got handed on upon arrival. When he looked back at Stiles he saw Stiles grin and his eyes trail over Derek’s body like he was assessing it. 

“I’m thinking leather and chrome,” Stiles said cheerfully. 

“Excuse me?” said Derek. 

“Your interior design,” Stiles said and tilted his head innocently. “Leather and chrome. Maybe an exposed brick.” 

Derek ignored the fact that he had just described Derek’s own apartment, now rented out for six months while he was away. 

A little bell saved him from answering. He looked around, and as far as he could tell the sound came from built-in speakers stuck in the walls. He had seen a few outlets like that in every room. Stiles pushed off from the closet-door. 

“Well, I’ll let you get settled,” he said and walked over to Derek, then he slid past him through the door and into his room. “Just so you know, that sound means mandatory exercise in half an hour, so, I don’t know, reserve your energy.” 

Stiles gestured his hands vaguely over Derek’s body and fell down in his own bed. Derek raised an eyebrow and watched him. 

“Mandatory exercise?” he asked. Stiles grabbed a comic book from his floor and shot Derek an amused look. 

“I know, like freaking high school,” he said, shook his head then thoroughly ignored Derek by burying his nose into his comic. Derek watched him for a second longer, then closed the door between them.

The door was an illusion of privacy, of course, because Derek could still hear and smell Stiles on the other side. He went into the bathroom and splashed off his face, then started unpacking the few things he had with him in the barren room. 

Thirty minutes later Derek knocked on Stiles’ door. He heard Stiles’ feet over the floor, and a rustle of clothes. 

“Come in,” Stiles called out. Derek opened the door and saw that Stiles had changed out of his sweatpants and into a pair of brightly coloured swim trunks. He still wore the graphic tee and he tossed a towel over his shoulder. 

Stiles led him through the house and into the basement. To get to it, they had to pass several locked doors, and Stiles waited patiently as Derek swiped his key-card to unlock them. The moment they got out of Stiles’ free zone more guards appeared, and a little convoy escorted them the last part. 

“Hey, Kira,” Stiles said to one particular guard, a woman perhaps 25 in age, with long black hair put up in a strict bun and a sweet smile. 

“Hey Stiles, how’s it going?” she asked. 

“Still not dead or homicidal.” Stiles said, far too cheerfully. The guard smiled like it was an inside joke Derek wasn’t privy to. 

“Have you met my new ball-and-chain, Wolfie?” Stiles asked, grabbed a hold of Derek’s wrist and forced him to show off the silver ring on his left hand. Stiles flashed his own hand off and grinned. Derek frowned and pulled his hand loose. The woman looked at him and gave him a smile.

“Hi, I’m Kira Yukimura,” she said and held out her hand

“Derek Hale.” Derek shook it. 

“Kira is a trickster of my own heart,” Stiles said brightly. “My partner in crime, and the one who’s going to break me out of this place one day.” 

Kira Yukimura laughed and shook her head. 

“Sure, Stiles,” she said, kindly, the way you encouraged a child who said they were going to become an astronaut and travel to another galaxy, never mind that the science was impossible. 

Together they stepped into a large room and a damp heat with the scent of chlorine struck Derek’s nose. 

“Of course this place has an indoor swimming pool,” Derek said. Through a glass door he could see a gym to the level of professionalism, but Stiles ignored that and instead went directly over to the pool. 

“And an outdoor pool, but Argent’s refusing to pay for heating,” Stiles said, pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it casually on the floor. Now in nothing but his brightly coloured swim trunks Stiles seemed completely unfazed by the presence of the guards. “Fucking cheapskate.” 

With fewer clothes to hide him, Derek could see that he was skinny. His ribs were noticeably visible against his pale skin and his hipbones jutted out acutely, showing the effects of long-term possession. Derek also noticed that his moles continued beyond his face and all across the pale expanse of skin. 

Derek scoffed and took off his own shirt. He folded it neatly and placed it on a recliner and when he turned back Stiles was watching him with an amused look on his face. 

“What?” Derek asked. Stiles brown eyes slid over Derek’s chest before they returned to his face. 

“You’re joining?” he asked, his lips pulled into a smile. 

“You said it was mandatory,” Derek said. 

“I like you, Wolfie,” Stiles hummed and walked over to the edge of the water. “The old guy was a bore.” 

Kira Yukimura shot Derek a sympathetic look and went to stand in attention by the door. Derek hadn’t quite anticipated that _he_ would feel so watched, but he shook it off and went to swim laps with his client.


	3. Summon

Derek's first few days were uneventful. He learned that Stiles liked to blast a mixture of pop, rock and emo loudly from the built-in speakers, and once, surprisingly, Stiles had blasted country, too. 

He learned that lunch was served in what was basically a mess hall, but that Stiles liked to cook dinners in the evenings in the free zone. He learned that, while Stiles was willing to accept help in the kitchen, his methods were very unorthodox, which resulted in extremely disorganized meal-preps. Stiles would flitter from one task to another, leaving about sixteen uncompleted because he abandoned it for the next thing that caught his fancy. 

Derek learned that Stiles was a good cook despite the chaos. He learned that Stiles had mandatory exercise twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, and that Stiles liked to swim. 

“I used to like to run,” Stiles said once after he had done his reps. He sat on the edge of the swimming pool, his hair and shoulders glistening with droplets of water. “I played lacrosse, you know.

“It’s not the same, running, when you can’t get anywhere,” he murmured almost so low Derek didn’t hear him at all. 

Derek also learned that since Stiles rarely left the house, his job was starting to feel more like he was there to keep Stiles company, rather than protect him.

Like now, when they sat together in the mess hall and Stiles was spilling all secrets he knew of the guards doing their best not to make it too obvious they were observing them. 

“See the big guy over there?” Stiles said and nodded towards one of them. He was chewing with his mouth open like he knew it disgusted Derek, so at the chance to watch something else Derek greedily took it. 

It was a middle-aged guy, with a face caught between a condescending smirk and a sneer. He didn’t look bigger than Derek, but compared to Stiles’ skinny frame Derek could see why Stiles called him the big guy. 

“That’s Brunski. Real doucheberg; loves excessive force. ” Stiles continued, taking another piece of pie into his mouth. Derek had learned that doucheberg was like a douchebag, except that the more you got to know them the worse their ‘douchiness’ became; kind of like an iceberg was bigger underneath than on top. “He wanna fuck me.” 

Derek choked on his own pie and glanced at him. Stiles smirked mischievously and Derek didn’t know if he should take him seriously or not. 

“Oh, no,” Stiles said encouragingly. “It’s true, he has a thing for twinks.” 

Then he gestured to himself all satisfactory. Derek scoffed. 

“You’re not a twink,” he said and gave Stiles a judging look. “Not dressed like that, at least.” 

Stiles glanced down at his own graphic tee and sweatpants then gave Derek a scandalized, smug look. 

“Why, Derek, how do you know the definition of twinks well enough to discard me so completely?” 

Derek ignored him and turned his attention back to Brunski. He was talking with another guard, but every so often he’d shoot a look over to where they were seated. Keeping an eye on Stiles was his job, Derek reminded himself, but Derek still didn’t like it. 

“Has he ever tried anything inappropriate?” Derek asked. Stiles raised his hand to flash off the silver ring on his ring finger. 

“Seriously, Derek, you’ve been my ol’ ball-and-chain for a week. Have _ you _ seen him try something  _ inappropriate _ ?” 

Stiles practically purred the last word and pinned Derek under one of those warm, clever gazes. 

Well, not as Derek had been there, obviously. Derek couldn’t move further than ten meters away from Stiles, so he would have definitely noticed something in that case, but he meant before. He shot Stiles a disapproving glare like that much was obvious, but Stiles just put a hand on his arm. 

“Besides, no matter how terrifying your hot, muscular wolf-body is, Brunski hasn't tried anything because he knows  _ I _ could break him in half.” Stiles grinned, then his expression grew thoughtful. “And besides, I’m a power bottom, I don’t think he could handle me.” 

Derek choked again and Stiles laughed delightedly. He grinned cheekily at Derek and pinched his chin. 

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you blush.” 

Derek swatted his hand away. 

“So, you’re gay?” Derek asked. Stiles groaned and shook his head sorrowfully. 

“Dude, at this point I’m so thirsty I am whatever.” Derek snorted at him. Stiles laughed again, and then his laughter got disrupted by the sound of the siren. Derek immediately shot out a hand over Stiles’, hand going to his weapon. 

Stiles just casually looked around the mess hall and shoved the last piece of pie from Derek’s plate into his mouth. 

“It’s just the summons, Wolfie,” Stiles said calmly and stood languidly. 

At the sound, everything started working like a well-oiled machine. Stiles walked over to Argent’s office, escorted there by Derek and a few guards; including Brunski, and when they entered Argent was already prepared and handed Stiles an ipad.

“At least thirty armed men broke into mass at St. John’s Episcopal Church an hour ago. It was at full capacity, so it’s over seven hundred people inside.” Argent said, his face grim. Stiles read through the information on the ipad. “Police just confirmed a massive magical discharge.” 

“Ugh, church.” Stiles said flippantly and handed the ipad back, then he looked to Derek. “Are you religious, Wolfie?” 

“I’m a werewolf,” Derek said drily. He wouldn’t say he necessarily believed the moon was a goddess, but he had been raised in the cult of Artemis. Stiles looked like he was going to say something, but Argent cut him off. 

“Stiles, the president of the United States is in that church, along with her family.” Stiles looked at Argent. Derek immediately straightened up. “This is considered a terrorist attack.” 

Stiles tilted his head, slowly, and  _ smiled _ . 

Argent gave Derek a look, then gestured for Derek and the guards to put on kevlar vests. Once Derek and the others were fixed, Argent pulled forth a box from his desk. He carefully put it down on the table and opened the lid. 

The moment it was open Derek felt a wave of nausea spill over him. The guards next to him tensed. Stiles however, took a long, deep breath and craned his neck like a heavy weight dropped from his shoulders. 

Derek glanced down into the box and saw daggers, nine of them, black as onyx and so sharp-looking that it seemed like they would be able to cut through the very air. Stiles reached out a hand for one of them. 

“The amulet, first,” Argent reminded and took forth another box. When this one opened, nothing happened. Stiles moved to pick up the necklace inside and hung it demonstratively over his neck. He shot Argent a look and Argent nodded, satisfied. 

Then, as if it was some kind of ceremony, Stiles exaggeratingly deliberately picked up one of the black daggers. 

Derek felt the air start to move. Magic crackled from the corners of the room. Stiles raised the dagger and stared at it. 

“Exactly  _ how _ important are the hostages?” he asked, his eyes glued on the dagger. Derek felt a shiver run down his spine. 

“Madam President and her family are  _ not  _ to be harmed.” said Argent sharply. “Some casualties are acceptable.” 

Stiles nodded like he was in a trance, then raised his arm. Slowly he brought the tip of the dagger to his skin and pressed down, slicing a crisp, deep cut all along the length of his arm. 

Stiles actually gasped in relief. His eyes fell on Derek and once again all light seemed to seep into him, like gravity being pulled into a black hole. And Derek felt himself be pulled in too, and the world just stopped. 

The transportation must have happened in milliseconds, but it felt like a lifetime had passed when Derek and the guards appeared in church, standing in the middle of the stone aisle. People were hunched down in the pews, sitting on the ground and keeping their heads down. 

Derek gasped for air, feeling like he’d collapse from the intense pressure Stiles emitted. 

Then people started screaming, but Derek couldn’t figure out why, until he realised that the darkness had followed them and was starting to swirl into shapes; men-like shapes that crawled first on the floor like something twisted and broken, then rose like puppets. 

The shapes rushed out towards the masked men with guns with such speed that Derek barely managed to see them move at all. They wove between hostages, one second nothing but smoke and then the next as solid as Derek himself. 

Guns went off, but seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the shapes. A particularly loud scream from a little boy pierced the air. 

Stiles flinched like he had been struck, and then he started running. Derek didn’t even get a choice, because when Stiles started moving he felt the magic binding them together tug at him, forcing him to break out into a sprint after Stiles. 

Stiles reached a masked man, stabbed the dagger into his throat and then as the man fell Stiles followed with, breathing in the man’s dying breath. Derek saw black veins appear on Stiles hands as the pain got sucked out from the body. 

Another man rushed them, and Derek pulled his gun and shot him but a blue light appeared around the man, causing the bullet to bounce. 

Before Derek had time to draw a crack-spell Stiles bounced up and slipped through the magic shield like it was made of water. He reached out, grabbed the man’s head on either side of his face and crushed the man’s skull. 

Derek stared and Stiles looked back at him, a mad glint in his eyes. Stiles smiled and his teeth were sharp and no longer human. They glistened like silver. 

_ ‘You haven’t seen anything like this,’ _ Argent’s voice rang through his head. 

Stiles jerked his head towards another attacker as the man rushed them. It looked like his neck twisted into an unnatural angle. Derek reacted instinctively and shot the man rushing them, and no magic bounced the bullet this time. 

Both Stiles and he watched the man fall down, and then Stiles snapped his head to the altar. Derek followed his line of vision and saw a masked man, holding the president of the United States in a deathgrip, a gun pointed directly against her head. 

“Stop, or I’ll fucking blow her brains out!” the man screamed. 

Stiles slowly released the crushed man’s skull and stood. Derek saw the shadow-creatures start to circle the man, but they didn’t attack. 

Stiles looked from the scene in front of him, then his eyes landed on a civilian a few meters in front of them. Derek saw in growing dread as the civilian stood up, holding a gun that must have skidded off of one of the terrorists in the attack, and pointed it to the man; and madam President. 

Derek immediately pointed his gun at the civilian. 

“Don’t do it,” he warned. 

“ _ Do it _ ,” Stiles hissed gleefully. Derek could feel the excitement in his voice, and saw the civilian tremble like he felt a physical weight over him. “Shoot him! Do the work of your God.” 

The civilian gasped and the shot rang out. 

Derek shot the civilian, but it was too late. A bullet had been fired. Derek watched the civilian drop before he turned his attention back to the president and her attacker. It looked like the bullet had hit the president in the stomach. 

Before anyone could do something, the shadow-figures reached out, grabbed the man holding the president, and tore him to pieces. Derek watched as the flesh just ripped apart, and it was only his training that made him start running to put pressure on the president’s wound. 

“Medic!” he screamed. Stiles appeared next to him, leaned down and forced his hand away from the wound. The magic was oppressive now. Derek couldn’t move. He just watched as Stiles dug his long fingers into the president’s wound. 

The president screamed in pain, but Stiles didn’t stop until he found what he was looking for. Derek saw Stiles’ hands retreat, holding the bullet in his blood-stained hands. 

Stiles seemed satisfied with this, because suddenly the magic that had forced Derek still eased up and Stiles allowed Derek to reapply pressure to the wound. 

Just like that, police stormed the church and secured the area, and a team of paramedics rushed over to Derek and took over. He saw an older woman start to apply healing magic onto the wound and he stood and stumbled back. 

Stiles was still kneeling on the floor, his eyes fixed on the medics and the president. 

“We have to return,” Derek said, kicking into action. The manual said to immediately return to base once the mission was complete. Mission was complete. 

He grabbed Stiles and pulled him to his feet. Stiles hissed and looked at him like he didn’t recognize him at all. Derek felt a spike of something and knew that the wrong move would result in his death. He watched Stiles levelly in the eyes and as calmly as he could he spoke again.

“We need to go back.” 

Stiles’ magic swirled past him and Derek let it wash over him like a wave. Stiles licked his lips and took an unsteady step back. 

The guards that had transported with them closed flank with them. Derek nodded encouragingly at Stiles and Stiles sagged a little and teleported them back. 

Reappearing was easier, but Derek still felt like he was going to throw up. The moment they landed in Argent’s office Argent was screaming. 

“What the hell was that?” Stiles took a step back like in a stupor. Derek released him. “You got the president shot!” 

“She was fine,” Stiles murmured. He looked once again like he was in that spaced-out trance. He pulled off the amulet he wore and dropped it carelessly on the floor. 

“I told you no harm was to come to her.” Argent said. Stiles turned towards the door. 

“I need a shower.” was all he said. 

Brunski stopped him before he could leave. Stiles stilled, his body tensed up. Derek saw the way his shoulders coiled, like a cornered predator ready to fight for freedom to its last breath. 

“The  _ kaiken _ , Stiles,” said Argent. Derek watched Stiles head tilt, then he slowly pulled forth the dagger. He held it out to Brunski who took it like it was the most disgusting thing he had ever witnessed. 

Brunski walked over to the box, and Stiles slipped out of the room. Derek looked at Argent then followed, feeling the magic pull him with. 

Stiles walked like he wasn’t mentally there. He stopped and waited for Derek to unlock the door for him, then immediately started walking again. When he reached the free zone he started undressing, dropping his bloodied clothes on the floor. 

Derek had no other choice but to follow him and when Stiles reached his bedroom he slipped into his own bathroom and closed the door. 

Derek could hear the shower start to run, so after a brief deliberation he decided to step into his bathroom and shower as well. 

He scrubbed himself clean, then stood under the water for half an hour, just letting it rush over him. Derek had seen people die before, but that moment when those shadows reached out and pulled that man apart… that was something else. That wasn’t right. 

It had seemed so easy, like his flesh was made out of paper. Derek took some deep breaths, leaning his forehead against the wall. 

What the hell was possessing Stiles if it was able to do shit like that? 

He tried to think through his training. Possession could happen with basically any spirit, but there was a hierarchy of power, and demons came in a lot of different shapes. The thing in Stiles had to be really old for it to possess that kind of juice. 

Old and aligned with death. 

But the thing Derek had seen Stiles do wasn’t death. Not really. Death spirits were about balance. Death was simply a transformative state from one thing to the other. People died and their bodies decomposed, which in turn nurtured new things to live and grow. 

Death spirits didn’t enjoy destruction for destruction's sake. 

“So what does that leave us with?” Derek murmured to himself. He sighed and turned off the water, then carefully stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself. He quickly dried himself off and stepped out into his bedroom. The closet was much too big for Derek’s clothes, which mostly were uniforms, but Derek opted for a faded hoodie that he used to sleep in when it was cold and a pair of sweatpants. 

He needed some comfort right now and if he took a deep sniff he could almost catch a scent of his pack on his hoodie. Once he felt calmer he listened in on Stiles. The shower was still running, so after a moment's consideration he went over to Stiles’ bedroom and knocked on the door. 

“Stiles?” he called out. “Are you alright?” 

The water turned off and Derek heard Stiles exit the shower, and then Stiles opened the bathroom door and blinked at him. 

He had wrapped a towel around his hips, but water was cascading down his wet hair. The darkness underneath his eyes seemed deeper somehow. His face looked taunt. Then he smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said and stepped past Derek. Stiles unwrapped the towel and started drying his hair, and Derek made a point to not look at his naked body. 

Derek didn’t necessarily know how long Stiles had been here, but it was obvious that his sense of privacy and personal space was shot to pieces. Stiles was used to being observed to the point where his own body was just another thing to watch. The notion made Derek a little uncomfortable, because he was a person and not a piece of meat; or a weapon. 

“I’m gonna play animal crossing,” Stiles said and pulled on a pair of baggy sweatpants. Derek didn’t comment on the fact that Stiles usually played shooter games. 

“Okay,” he said and watched him for a moment longer. “Let me get my book.” 

Stiles shrugged like he didn’t care either way, but waited until Derek reappeared, book in hand, before he went out into the living room. Stiles practically fell into the couch, his eyes glued onto the tv. 

Derek sat down next to him and opened the book. 

About half an hour later, Stiles glanced over to him. “Whatcha reading?” 

Derek looked up, watched Stiles’ little animal friends walk over the tv and looked to Stiles. “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter,” Derek said. 

“Sounds kinky,” said Stiles. Derek smiled besides himself. 

“It’s not, it’s about this group of misfits in the 1930’s.” 

“Misfits can be kinky,” Stiles said. 

“Well, these misfits aren’t,” said Derek. Stiles scoffed and turned back to his game. 

“Boring.” 

“It’s actually really good.” Derek said. “You should read it.” 

“Yeah, no, thanks, I can’t read.” 

Derek looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “You can’t  _ read _ ?” 

Stiles glanced at him, a grimace locked in place on his face. He shifted in the seat, then shrugged a little. 

“I mean, I  _ can  _ read.” he said, trailing off. “I used to be really good at it, at least, but, uh, whenever I focus on text too long now it all starts melting off the page. Or looks like an alien language.” 

Derek frowned. “Because of your possession?” 

“Either that, or I have some fucked up written agnosia,” Stiles said casually. Derek just stared at him. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Inability to process sensory information.” 

“Is it just writing?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged and looked back at his game. 

“Sometimes it’s counting, too,” he admitted and shuddered. “It’s like there are too many  _ things _ . You have no idea how many times I have had eleven fingers and thirteen toes.” 

“Well,” Derek said slowly. “Seems like you’re able to remember useful information like agnosia, anyhow.” 

Stiles laughed and ran across his island in the game. 

“Dude, I have ADHD,” he said and tapped on his forehead. “Half of what is in here is the result of three month long hyperfixations in which I barely slept while researching it. Trust me, it’s not that useful.” 

Derek watched him hesitantly. Stiles turned off his game. 

“I’m going to bed,” he said even though the clock wasn’t even six yet. Derek closed his book. 

“Okay,” he said and stood. He knew that if Stiles was in his bedroom, Derek needed to be either in his, or the kitchen, otherwise they were too far apart. “I’ll make myself a sandwich, do you want one?” 

Stiles gave him a confused look like the fact that Derek offered to feed him was a step too far, but then he shook his head. 

“Nah, I’m cool.” he said and ducked off to his bedroom. Derek went to the kitchen, made himself the sandwich and barely managed to eat more than a few bites. He felt nauseous and he knew it was the side effects of Stiles’ magic. 

Stiles kind of magic felt very cold, and it left a pit in his stomach. Jennifer Blake’s magic had been warm, burning like the anger that sustained her. Where his skin had touched hers, Jennifer had blistered his skin and caused his body to burn. 

He had just been  _ near _ Stiles and it had felt like he would never get warm again. The kind of magic that Stiles controlled left a void inside of everyone that got exposed to him. 

Derek grimaced, tossed the scraps of the sandwich and went to bed. 

* * *

When the scream woke him Derek felt he had just been asleep for a few minutes, but the clock was saying 4.28. He was out of bed before he even really registered what was going on, and then he practically tore the door that separated his and Stiles’ room off and took in the scene. 

Stiles was trashing on the bed, screaming like he was being murdered. Derek realized he was sleeping. 

Quickly Derek jumped onto the bed and grabbed his shoulders, but the moment he touched him Stiles’ eyes shot open. 

“No, no, no!” he screamed and flailed his arms around, trying to dislodge Derek’s grip. Stiles frantically clawed the mattress like he could pull himself loose that way. 

“Stiles, it’s okay!” Derek shouted. Stiles managed to twist himself around and almost heaved himself out of bed. 

“No, please, don’t,” he screamed. Perhaps he should have realised it sooner; that just because Stiles had opened his eyes didn’t mean that he was awake, but it was only when Stiles’ screams broke out into frantic sobs that Derek understood he was still asleep. 

Derek heaved him up and pressed Stiles’ back to his chest. Stiles cried and clawed over Derek’s arms, but Derek would heal. He pressed him close, partly because he was scared that if he let go Stiles could hurt himself in his sleep. 

“You’re okay,” Derek shushed and held him still, and eventually Stiles stopped struggling. He kept crying though, a mixture of screaming and weeping out anguish, and eventually buried his face in Derek’s arm. Derek kept offering calming words. 

Stiles alarm-clock said 6.03 when Stiles stopped crying. 

“Is this real?” Stiles whispered. Derek had never heard someone sound so broken as Stiles did in that moment.

“Yes,” said Derek. Stiles shifted from his hiding-spot on Derek’s bicep and glanced at him. His eyes were tearfilled and glistening in the darkness. 

“How do you know?” he asked. Derek, who never had been forced to explain how he  _ knew _ reality was reality, was kind of thrown for a loop at the question. 

“It… feels real,” he said eventually. Stiles slumped more into him. 

“It always feels real,” he murmured. Derek blinked and slowly put his chin on the top of Stiles head. 

“Well this is real.” he said. Stiles leaned against him for a moment longer, then he wiped his face and pushed away from Derek. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he said and stood. Derek said nothing as he saw Stiles’ knees tremble at the weight of him, but his eyes followed his path until Stiles closed the bathroom door between them. 

Derek looked around, listening to Stiles' movements on the other side of the door. 

The kid hadn’t eaten in a while, he thought and went to make Stiles a sandwich. While he was in the kitchen he picked up his phone and sent Argent a quick text. 

_ ‘Does he often have nightmares?’ _

It was early, so Derek wasn’t surprised that it took Argent a while to answer. 

_ ‘Yes, why?’  _

Derek frowned, heard Stiles slip out of the bathroom and went to give him the sandwich. 


	4. Darkness

After mandatory exercise Stiles seemed to have shaken the nightmare off. He was chatting brightly as he buzzed around in the kitchen, making a huge mess as he prepared lunch. Derek wasn’t even convinced he was chatting to Derek, because the train of thought jumped every other minute. It was the first time Derek had seen him prep lunch, but he figured it had something to do with that it was Friday and Stiles’ had visitations. 

As if Stiles’ could tell Derek wasn’t paying attention he suddenly pinned Derek under a sharp, amused look. The black circles under his eyes stood out against his pale skin, though, and the paleness seemed to have worsened. 

“Hey Derek, when is a door not a door?” Stiles grinned. Derek raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “When it’s ajar.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and took the over boiling pot from the stove. Stiles pouted like he wanted a better reaction. Derek pursed his lips. 

“What gets wetter the more it dries?” Derek humoured with a sigh. Stiles beamed. 

“A towel,” Stiles said and tossed some uneven chunks of garlic into the pasta sauce. “What gets bigger the more you take away?” 

Derek thought about it, then gave Stiles a suspicious look. “Is this a hole and dog joke?” 

Stiles tossed his head back and laughed. Derek smiled and adjusted the head on the stove. 

“What’s so fragile that saying its name breaks it?” Stiles asked and wiped his eyes from tears. 

“I don’t know,” Derek said. 

“Silence,” said Stiles, but then the smile waned off his face. He watched Derek seriously and Derek raised an eyebrow. “Everyone has it, but no one can loose it.” 

Derek shook his head. 

“A shadow,” Stiles said. His voice dropped low and suddenly he took a step closer to Derek. Derek stilled and turned to face him. Stiles’ eyes looked darker and glistened again, and he crooked his head eerily. “The more there is of me, the less you see. What am I?” 

Derek watched him. Stiles' face was lax and calm, but there was an intensity in his voice that didn’t match his expression. Derek felt Stiles breath, hot over his face and shook his head. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Darkness,” Stiles said. His glistening eyes moved over Derek’s face, then Stiles smiled and took a step back as suddenly as he had arrived. 

“Are you going to wear that?” Stiles said and turned back to the food. Derek blinked, keeping his eyes on Stiles a moment longer before he looked down on himself. Black tee, black trousers. It had basically become Derek’s life since he came here. 

“Um, yes?” he asked. Stiles shot him a look with raised eyebrows. 

“Derek, _Lydia Martin_ is coming.” he said. Derek frowned. Stiles gave him a once-over like he couldn’t believe Derek didn’t immediately understand his point. 

“Okay..?” Derek said. Stiles smirked. 

“I’ll borrow you something,” he sing-songed and bounced off into his bedroom. Derek watched after him, shook his head and stirred the sauce. 

When Stiles returned he was holding an orange-blue striped shirt that he handed to Derek. 

“Put this on,” he ordered. Derek raised an eyebrow. 

“Um, why?” 

“Oh my god, Wolfie, stop questioning me about everything?” Stiles snapped, but his tone was playful. Derek continued to stare at him levelly. Stiles pouted. “Please Derek, come on! I have literally nothing else going on in my life, please just give me this chance to have Lydia thrist over my new bodyguard.” 

Derek knew he should refuse, but as Stiles pout grew he was suddenly reminded of Cora when she was a kid, throwing puppy-eyes at him until he gave into her whims. Derek sighed and took it. Stiles fistpumped, then got distracted by cutting salad. 

Quickly Derek pulled off his own shirt and put on Stiles’. The fabric was soft like it had been well worn, but it was incredibly tight over his chest. Not to mention that it was an awful tone of orange. 

“Uh, Stiles,” Derek said. 

“Yes?” Stiles asked and glanced over to him. When his eyes landed on the tight shirt he smirked. Son of a bitch. 

“This… no fit,” Derek grumbled. Stiles smiled sweetly. 

“No, that’s the point.” he said. Derek decided to cool off in the living room. As he stormed out he heard Stiles laugh after him. 

Manipulative little shit. 

* * *

At a minute past noon Derek heard steps come down the corridor towards the free zone. He stood up from the couch, and at the same time Stiles dashed into the living room, his eyes locked onto the door like they were missile seekers. 

Derek watched him nervously rearrange his hair, a habit he hadn’t seen before, and shift on his feet. Fascinated with this new side, Derek continued to watch until the lock beeped open and the door swung forth. 

Stiles practically pounced into the man that stepped in, latched his arms around his shoulders and clung on like a little kid. The man, who Derek assumed was Stiles’ father, lost his breath but stayed up, wrapping his arms around Stiles waist. 

Derek saw Stiles bury his face in his father’s neck and both of them stood and swayed a little in the hug. Behind the man a young woman in a stylish black and white jumpsuit slipped past them, gave them a steady look before her eyes slipped past and onto Derek. 

This woman may not be a werewolf, but Derek recognized an Alpha when he saw one. The woman quickly and critically assessed him, then rearranged her strawberry blonde curls and turned back to Stiles and the man to wait her turn. 

Stiles eventually pulled away long enough to stare into his father’s face. Stiles’ father placed a hand on his son’s cheek and smiled. 

“Hey, pop,” Stiles murmured, his voice soft and frail. Derek actually felt bad for observing this tender moment, so he stared at one of those ugly white canvases instead. 

“Stiles,” the man greeted. In the corner of his eye Derek saw Stiles pull away and hug the young woman. 

“Lydia, light of my life, goddess of all that is good, have anyone told you you look sexy as hell?” he laughed and Lydia squeezed him back and smiled. 

“Only every other second,” she replied. Derek glanced back at them as Stiles pulled away and looked at Derek. 

“Come on, this is Derek, my new bodyguard.” Then, like was his tradition, he held up his hand and flashed off the silver ring on his ring finger like they were married. Derek saw the mischievous sparkle in his eye and rolled his eyes. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said and shook hands with Stiles’ father. “Derek Hale.” 

“Noah Stilinski,” the man said and smiled. 

“Lydia,” said Lydia. Stiles slung an arm over her shoulder. She did not offer to shake his hand, but instead gave him a once-over and turned to Stiles. “Is he wearing your shirt?” 

Stiles' face broke out into a huge grin and he faced her. 

“Why, Lydia, I am shocked and appalled at your insinuations.” 

She narrowed her eyes and looked back at Derek. “He made you wear that, didn’t he?” 

“Yes,” said Derek. Stiles scoffed. 

“Traitor.” 

“Stiles,” Stiles’ father admonished fondly. Stiles shrugged like he couldn’t be bothered. 

“ _I_ have made pasta, lady and gentlemen,” he said excitedly. “Hope you’re hungry.” 

“It isn’t that hearthy stuff you made last time, is it?” Mr Stilinski said. Stiles gave his father an affronted look. 

“ _Of course_ it is,” he said. His father sighed.

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly fun. Stiles’ hadn’t been kidding when he said his father had entertaining stories from his job and Derek wasn’t entirely sure that the level of detail that Stiles managed to pry out of his father was technically legal for the sheriff to indulge; but based on the look Mr Stilinski had on his face when Stiles laughed or gasped in amazement told Derek all he needed to know. Mr Stilinski didn’t give two shits about rules if it made his son happy. 

And Stiles seemed happy. When dinner was done he immediately dragged Lydia to the living room to join him for a game. Lydia didn’t strike Derek as the kind of woman who enjoyed Call of Duty, but she acquiesced anyhow. Mr Stilinski stayed behind with Derek to load the dishwasher - and clean up the mess Stiles had created in the kitchen to begin with. 

“So, Derek,” Mr Stilinski said and wiped a counter free of pasta sauce. “Any relation to the Hale-pack?” 

Derek looked up from his job trying to get burnt pasta from the bottom of the pan and nodded. “Yeah, Alpha Hale is my mother.” 

“No way,” Mr Stilinski said and grinned. “I’ve actually worked with Mrs Hale, a few years ago on a case where a rogue alpha was trying to build up a new pack in my district.” 

“I think I remember that,” Derek said and frowned. He remembered his mom talking about how corruption had spread so deep that once she finally managed to take the alpha down it didn’t even look like a wolf anymore, but a huge beast, twisted into a mockery of their form. “He ended up killing a lot of high schoolers, right?” 

Mr Stilinski nodded sadly. “Yeah, it was… it was pretty bad. Stiles were classmates with a few of them.” 

Derek glanced through the kitchen at Stiles and Lydia on the couch; Stiles enthusiastically trying to teach Lydia the controls. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. What was there to say, really? Rogue alphas like that, biting without consent, were a disgrace to wolves everywhere, and things like that made humans less likely to trust them. His mother had spent her entire adult life to build trust between humans and wolves, and there were always a few bad seeds of course, but it was shit like that that caused deadly conflicts over territories between wolves and humans. Shit like that that still made packs have to keep to themselves in case some nut-job would get inside the den to burn it down.

“Your mom, though,” Mr Stilinski said and shook his head. It looked like he for a moment was lost in a memory. “I was at my wits end, if I’m honest with you, but she came in and she knew exactly what needed to be done. She saved a lot of people when she agreed to take the case.” 

“It’s what she does,” Derek said. From the living room Stiles and Lydia laughed. Mr Stilinski glanced back at them for a long moment, then he turned back to Derek. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly. Derek frowned and nodded.

“Of course.” 

Mr Stilinski sighed and looked back towards his son. “How is he? Really? I ask him, but… he won’t tell me the truth.” 

Derek followed his gaze. Stiles looked happy now, beating Lydia at video games, but underneath his eyes the dark bags were huge. He was all sharp angles and prodding bones. Derek thought of the way he could count Stiles’ ribs when they swam together, and the way his neck had twisted wrongly during last night’s mission. 

“I’m not sure I’m the best to answer that, Sir,” Derek said slowly. “I’ve only been here a week.” 

Mr Stilinski sighed again and nodded. “Yeah, no, I understand.” 

“It seems to me like he’s trying to make the best out of a bad situation,” Derek said. Stiles’ didn’t necessarily seem happy; but he was joking and curious, and enjoyed teasing like nobody's business. Mr Stilinski looked at him and smiled, pained. 

“Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s Stiles.” Derek watched him return to wiping down the counter. 

“Can I ask _you_ something?” 

“Shoot,” said the sheriff and grinned. For a second he looked just like Stiles and Derek suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

“What kind of entity is possessing him?” 

The sheriff’s smile fell. He glanced back at Stiles and Lydia. 

“Do you know what a kitsune is?” he asked. Derek nodded. Mischievous trickster-spirits with different affiliations to natural phenomenon. He didn’t remember exactly, but at university he had made a shorter essay on celestial kitsunes. They were rare, but they weren’t… well, they weren’t like whatever Stiles was. 

They were classed as deities, and weren’t usually concerned about right or wrong, or what was going on in the mortal realm. As long as they could sneak in and out and stir a few pots they were happy. 

What was inside of Stiles was not happy. It wasn’t there to just stir the pots, it was there to blow up the entire kitchen.

“Well, it’s called a nogitsune,” Mr Stilinski said. “It’s… it’s nothing. It’s chaos. _Void_.”

Derek watched the scene in the living room. Stiles was laughing, and Lydia was waving her hands around with the controller like that would help her shoot better. 

“Is that why his power seems to suck in all light? Because it’s a void?” Derek asked. Mr Stilinski frowned like the whole thing made him uncomfortable, but nodded. 

“Well, not even Argent or the doctors know for sure, you know,” Stilinski said, “but that’s their guess.” 

“Has it ever tried to communicate?” Stilinski shivered and didn’t answer. So it had, then. And it had not been good. 

“Have you seen it?” Mr Stilinski asked. “What he can do?” 

Derek hesitated and nodded slowly. “A little. Yesterday we were called on a mission and he… he destroyed them all.” 

Stiles’ father looked worn. Derek saw tears well up in his eyes and then the man started wiping at his eyes. 

“Aw, shit,” he muttered under his breath. Derek knew he had pushed too hard. They were talking about the possession of the man’s son for crying out loud, not some distant case the sheriff could divulge information on. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, but Stilinski shook his head and cleared his throat. 

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It is just, uh, it’s been a tough eight years.” 

Derek felt his stomach sink. Stiles had been possessed by this deity for eight years? How was the kid still alive? He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his neck. 

“He’s strong, Sir. Not only the nogitsune, but _Stiles_ is strong.” 

Stilinski looked at him then, and smiled gratefully, if not a little awkwardly.

“Thanks Derek,” he said and clasped his shoulder. “You know, I like you better than the last guy.” 

“I have been told he was a bore,” Derek deadpanned. Stilinski tossed his head back and laughed, reminding him so much of Stiles. Derek smiled and nodded towards the living room. “Go spend time with your son, Sir. I’ll finish up here.” 

Stilinski shot him another grateful look and went in. Derek saw Stiles immediately face his father. 

“Dad, wanna join?” 

“I think I’ll just leave it to the pros,” Stilinski said and sat down next to him. Stiles grinned, leaned into his side, then quickly glanced over to Derek. 

Derek turned around like the intimacy had burned him. When had he spent time with family last? Meaningful time, at least, and not Derek whining that he didn’t have anything that mattered deeply enough for him, so he couldn’t do his job? 

Stiles was possessed and he still made a better job maintaining his family than Derek. It made him feel guilty, and he used that anger to finally scrub the damn pasta loose from the pot. 

* * *

That afternoon Derek was giving Stiles, his father and Lydia some space. He sat in an armchair further away from them and barely listened to what they were saying as he googled kitsunes, and especially nogitsune. 

“Oh my god, Lydia, why are you talking about Jackson again?” Stiles complained. Derek tuned out Lydia’s reply and went to another page. He wasn’t sure if what he found was relevant or not. 

According to one page, yako-tsuki, or nogitsune were tiny creatures, either black or white, and families could get hereditarily possessed by the spirits. Possession resulted in an illness-like state where the host practically became semi-invalid. 

Derek glanced thoughtfully at Stiles. He didn’t imagine that Stiles had swallowed a little black fox-thing, but Stiles had said that he was genetically susceptible to it. He had also said his mother died when he was young. Derek wondered if those things were connected somehow. 

Some people were more likely to be possessed, Derek knew, either through genes or circumstance. But those possessions usually came about the same way some people were genetically more susceptible to alcoholism or substance addiction. And possession by those demons were usually the kind that fed off the misery it caused in its host. 

The danger there was that they often resulted in overindulgence. Possession by entities with paranormal, magic abilities were a different thing entirely. 

Another page said that most nogitsune, unlike other kinds of kitsune, were low level deities who had no aspiration to climb the divinity ladder. The nogitsune was almost always trickster and apparently liked to eat candle wax, fried tofu and the life-force of young women. 

Derek snorted and left the page. 

The door to the free zone beeped open. Derek looked up in time to see Yukimura and Brunski standing there. Yukimura smiled, but Brunski scowled. 

“Hey, sorry for interrupting,” said Yukimura and she honestly did sound apologetic. “But visitations are soon out.” 

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” said Stilinski. Stiles however frowned. 

“Kira, stop being a stickler for the rules.” he said. “Come on, let loose, stick it to the man!” 

Yukimura smiled, glanced at Brunski and stepped into the room. 

“Sorry Stiles,” she said and shook her head, then slowly pulled out a chocolate bar and held it in front of her so Brunski couldn’t see. She wriggled it around a little. Derek saw Stiles eyes widen and he dramatically sighed and stood up. 

“I can’t be mad at you,” he said, tossed the controller into the sofa and crushed her with a hug. Yukimura wrapped her arms around him and stuck the bar into his back-pocket and laughed. 

Mr Stilinski stood up and walked over. Stiles let go of Yukimura and looked to his father. Yukimura stepped away to give them some space. 

“You be good, kid,” Stilinski said and wrapped Stiles into a hug. 

“Who, me?” Stiles said and laughed, but Derek could see how hard he hung onto the embrace. 

“You should eat more,” Stilinski murmured. Derek wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have a wolf’s senses. “You’re skin and bones.” 

“Take care, dad.” Stiles said instead of acknowledging the words. He pulled away and gave him a critical look. “Eat healthy - don’t think just because I’m not there you get a pass at eating hamburgers every day.” 

“It’s all green beans and quinoa,” Stilinski lied with a smile. 

Stiles watched him suspiciously, but when Lydia walked over to them he disengaged from his father and wrapped his arms around Lydia. 

“Seriously, don’t get together with Jackson again,” Stiles said. Lydia scoffed. 

“We’re not together, I was just saying that we had been to the same club,” 

“That’s what you always say,” Stiles said softly. Lydia didn’t argue. 

Derek watched them pull away and Stiles gave both Lydia and his father a big smile. 

“Drive safe,” Stiles said. 

“Yeah.” said Stilinski and glanced Derek’s way. “It was good meeting you, Derek.” 

“You too, Sir,” Derek said and smiled. Stilinski nodded. 

“Send my regards to your mother.” 

“Will do.” 

Stilinski pulled Stiles into a hug once again and kissed the top of his head. Derek felt a pang rush through him and forced himself to look away. 

Derek had been close to his family once. They were pack and it was in his blood. Wolves were supposed to stay and grow their family ties. But Derek was rarely home. The last time had been when he came home to try and find something of sentimental value, and he had only stayed one night. Before that, he hadn’t been home in three years. 

To be fair, Derek’s job with Deucalion had taken him all over the world, and before that he had been stationed abroad. Before that he had worked on his masters. He had valid reasons for being away from the pack, and most times it didn’t bother him, but something about the way Stiles clung to his father made Derek feel like an omega, drifting pack- and homeless in a stormy sea. 

Which was ridiculous because he was not packless. But maybe he should call his parents more often. 

Derek turned back to see Stilinski and Lydia leave along with Brunski and Yukimura. Stiles had his back towards him, but it looked like he was watching the door slip shut. The lock beeped and Stiles slowly turned back around. 

Now when they had left he looked more tired. The dark bags under his eyes stood out drastically on his face and his eyes seemed a bit dulled. Derek put his phone down and gave Stiles his full attention. 

“So, did you accomplish your goal to have Lydia thirst over me?” he asked gently. Stiles pulled forth the chocolate bar from his pocket and glanced at him. His eyes trailed over Derek’s ridiculously tight shirt and he smiled. 

“Why yes, I did.” he said, opened the bar and offered Derek half. Derek looked at the offered piece and shook his head. 

“Eat it you,” he said. Stiles raised an eyebrow. 

“Is this because dogs aren’t supposed to have chocolate?” 

Derek scoffed and snatched the piece to him. Stiles laughed and nibbled at the other piece as he sank down on the couch again. Derek watched him stare blankly on the game menu on the tv for a long while. Stiles seemed miles away. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked. Stiles head lolled to the side so he could look at him, but the far-away stare didn’t vanish. Derek waited for a moment, then, “Stiles?” 

“When is a door not a door?” Stiles murmured. Derek frowned. 

“When it’s ajar,” he said slowly. “You already asked that one.” 

Stiles shook his head and his eyes refocused. He smiled brightly. 

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked. Derek looked him over. Stiles tilted his head. 

“Nothing,” Derek said. 

“Okay,” said Stiles and stood up. “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Before exercise?” Derek asked. Stiles cast a quick, uncertain glance at him, then his face rearranged itself and that uncertain expression disappeared. 

“Damn, Wolfie, you’re right,” he said and laughed. “What would I do without you?” 

Stiles stretched and started walking towards his bedroom. Derek felt the tug of magic and stood and followed. 

Instead of going into the bathroom, Stiles dropped down in his bed, but didn’t bother to close the door between their bedrooms. Derek watched him pick up a comic again and bury his nose in it. 

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek said. Stiles glanced up at him. “What room does ghosts avoid?” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I don’t know, I suck at riddles.” 

“The living room,” Derek frowned. Stiles laughed brightly and went back to his comic. 

Derek’s bad feeling grew.


	5. Dreams

Derek was in the Hale house. He was walking up the stairs to the porch and the house was on fire. He knew it was a dream, because Jennifer Blake was there, urging him on to join his family who were burning to death on the inside. He could hear the screams and howls, voices that he had known since childhood, rise over the roaring of flames.

He heard his mother, his alpha, howl in pain and anguish as one after one the pack bonds broke. Derek could feel them break in his own mind too and knew it had to be unbearable for his mother. 

“Go on, Derek,” Jennifer Blake said, grasping his hand. When he looked at her it was the beautiful woman that he saw and not the mangled, disfigured creature he knew was her real form. 

“I don’t want to,” Derek whispered. Jennifer Blake squeezed his hand encouragingly. 

“You have to,” she said. Derek felt something pick him up by the scruff, Jennifer Blake’s magic pulling him forth into the flames. 

“Jennifer, please,” Derek begged, but the magic forced him inside. In what was the foyer, usually filled with warm light, every wall was on fire. Derek heard the wood groan in pain. When he stepped in he started to feel the pack bonds more acutely and he howled in pain at the loss of some, the ones he knew were already dead. 

He felt his father flicker out in his mind and heard his mother howl again as it snapped away. He needed to go to the basement, where he knew the rest of his pack were. He needed to try and save them. But then he caught sight of Stiles, standing at the top of the stairs.

The flames were licking along his flesh, but it didn’t look like they harmed him. Stiles was staring off into the upstairs corridor at something Derek couldn’t see from his vantage point. Derek stopped and blinked at him. 

“Stiles?” he called, coughing at the smoke. 

Stiles didn’t look at him, but started walking down the hallway. Derek looked towards the path that would lead him to the basement, then he hurried up the stairs and followed Stiles. 

The hallway didn’t look as it should. Derek knew it by heart, but the place they walked down looked like a hospital corridor. It was very dark and filthy, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. A thick layer of dust was on the ground and Derek followed the footsteps Stiles left as he walked. He heard the roar of the fire fade out as they left the house behind them. 

“Stiles?” Derek called again. Stiles turned and walked into a room, briefly disappearing from his view. He ran the last part and burst into the room. It looked like an old boiler-room, or a basement. 

Stiles stood next to a wall, scratching his fingernails over and over into the concrete wall. Derek could see and smell blood as it smeared over the wall into the symbol of a backwards five. 

Derek walked slowly over to him and looked at the profile of his face. Stiles looked scared and up close he could see him tremble. 

“Stiles?” he whispered. Stiles turned his head towards him. His eyes glistened with tears. 

“I think there’s something in here with us,” he whispered. 

And that’s when Derek woke up. For a second he didn’t know where he was, but then he realized he was in the kitchen. Stiles stood next to the pantry, trembling like a leaf in the wind. It was still dark. 

Derek didn’t sleepwalk. 

“Stiles?” he asked. Stiles didn’t turn to look at him, but reached and dragged his fingers over the pantry door. Blood smeared into the symbol of a backwards five. Derek immediately tensed and reached out to stop him. 

“Scott?” Stiles asked. He sounded terrified. Derek froze in his movement. 

“I - no, it’s Derek,” he said. Stiles sniffled. 

“Scott, I think there’s something in here,” he whispered. Derek reached out the last part and stopped his hand from repeating the pattern. 

“There’s no one in here, Stiles,” he said gently. “It’s just a dream.” 

“Everyone has it, but no one can lose it,” Stiles mumbled. “What is it?” 

Derek swallowed and pulled Stiles’ hands back. Stiles fingertips were bleeding and with Derek’s enhanced vision he could see something else that looked suspiciously like dirt or ash on them. 

“Everyone has it, but no one can lose it!” Stiles shouted. His head snapped to Derek and he glared. “What is it?!” 

“A shadow,” Derek said. Stiles shuddered and stumbled, and Derek steadied him. Stiles blinked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Derek?” he asked and looked around. “Where -?” He stopped, stared around at the kitchen.

“What happened?” he asked when he finally looked back at Derek. 

“You sleepwalked,” Derek said. His mind was already trying to come up with explanations, and especially for how Derek had sleepwalked as well. The pull of magic between them quivered. Maybe, if Stiles started walking Derek went with, still stuck in his dream. And if Stiles had been talking, maybe that explained why Stiles had appeared in his dream, and why Derek had dreamt about what Stiles said. 

“There was a house,” Stiles said slowly. “It was on fire. People were trapped inside.” 

Derek felt his body go cold. He dropped Stiles hands and ran back to the bedroom. 

“Derek?” Stiles called after him. He grabbed his phone, dialed his mother’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. Stiles appeared next to him, blinking at him. The dial tones went through. Derek felt like his teeth would break under the pressure. 

“Derek?” his mom answered by the fourth ring. She sounded sleepy but alert. Derek slumped down in the bed and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Have something happened?” 

“I - is everything alright, mom?” he whispered. 

He could imagine her, sitting up in the bed and turning on the light. His dad grumbling and turning his face away from the lamp. 

“Yes, of course, darling,” Talia said. He could hear the frown through her voice. “Why, are you okay?” 

“Could you go and check?” Derek heard himself ask. He could feel his body trembling and he couldn’t shake the vision of his childhood home going up in flames. 

“Derek, what’s going on?” His mom asked. Derek heard his father sit up through the phone. 

“Is everything okay?” his dad asked worriedly. 

“Please, go check,” Derek said and shook his head. “Like, at wiring, or wherever a fire could start.” 

“Tony, can you check the fuses?” Talia said. Derek heard his father roll out of bed. “Derek, honey, is everything okay?” 

“I can’t explain, mom, just -” Stiles stepped forth, snatched Derek’s phone from his hand and brought it to his ear. 

“Hi, Mrs Hale, I’m Stiles,” he said seriously. “I work with your son.” 

Derek blinked up at him and was going to ask what the hell he was doing, but something in Stiles’ face shut him up. 

“I’m sorry we scared you, but you really need to check your wiring,  _ and _ your wards.” Stiles looked at Derek. “You should also check your fire alarm, the battery is out.” 

Stiles nodded at whatever Talia said. “Yes, he’s fine, I’m with him.” 

Then Stiles handed the phone back to Derek. He raised it to his ear and took a shaky breath. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll make a full sweep,” Talia said, now using her alpha voice. “I’ll call you back later.” 

“Okay,” said Derek mellowly. Something like bile and embarrassment started to rise in his throat. Had he seriously called and woken his mom up because of a dream? 

A dream that Stiles had shared. 

Talia cut the call and Derek slowly lowered the phone and stared at it. Stiles sat down next to him on the bed and slowly reached out and touched his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” he said gently. Derek shook his head. 

“I - it was just a dream. I freaked out over a dream.” 

Stiles said nothing, but continued to pet him over the shoulder. Derek glanced at him. 

“It  _ was _ a dream, right?” 

“I’ll make tea,” Stiles said and stood. Derek looked after him, glanced back at the phone, and slowly followed into the kitchen. 

Stiles was busy with the kettle. He had turned on the lights, which now seemed to burn Derek’s eyes. Derek followed Stiles’ movements as Stiles picked forth mugs and placed them on the island. Then Stiles wandered over to the pantry and froze. Derek looked past his shoulder at the backwards five, painted there with Stiles’ own blood.

“Aw, shit, you’re bleeding!” Derek said and rushed to the medicine cabinet. He heard rather than observed as Stiles tore the pantry door open, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Derek turned back, plasters in hand, and saw Stiles stare into the pantry with a white face. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles flinched, then reached out and grabbed the tea. Quickly he slammed the door closed and went back to the mugs. Derek glanced between the symbol and Stiles and walked over to him. 

“Let me see,” he said and took Stiles’ left hand. The silver on his finger glistened for a second and Derek felt a lump of homesickness swell over him. He pushed the feeling down and started cleaning Stiles’ fingers with antiseptic wipes. 

It was definitely dirt and ash on his hands. It looked like he had broken his nails and they were the cause of the bleeding. Derek frowned as he worked. When he had cleaned all fingers on both hands and put plasters where they were needed he looked up and saw Stiles study his face seriously. 

Derek lowered the grasp he had on Stiles, but didn’t let go. They just looked at each other for a long moment. Stiles had moles scattered over his face. Beauty marks, Derek’s nanny had called them when they were kids and Laura had been so upset about the mole by her mouth. 

Stiles’ eyes moved over Derek’s face like they were trying to map his features. 

“Water’s done,” Stiles said silently. Derek furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What?” 

“The tea water,” Stiles said. Derek released his hand and Stiles moved over to the kettle. Derek observed as he made them two cups, then watched Stiles’ hand push Derek’s tea over to him. Numbly he took the mug and blew on the hot water. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah,” said Stiles. He shifted from one foot to the other and glanced back at the pantry. “Do you think you could - um, wipe that off?” 

Derek followed his gaze to the symbol. The blood was drying fast and had already turned kind of brownish. 

“Sure.” he grabbed a cloth and walked over, then hesitated for a moment. “What is it?” 

“Jiko; the Japanese kanji for self.” Stiles sighed. Derek glanced back at him, but Stiles wasn’t watching him. His eyes were downcast to the kitchen island and his hands were gripping the mug of tea tightly. Derek wiped the blood off quickly. 

“We should go back to bed,” Derek said once he was done. As the adrenaline was going down he realized he was exhausted. 

“Who was the woman with you?” Stiles asked. Derek frowned and looked at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Dark hair, pretty, fair skin.” Stiles said and met his gaze seriously. He crooked his head and sipped some tea. “ _ Scars _ .” 

Derek flinched like Stiles had punched him and his mouth grew dry. 

“Jennifer Blake,” he said silently. Stiles’ amber eyes glistened curiously. They stared at each other in silence. Stiles continued to drink his tea. Derek swallowed. “Who’s Scott?” 

Stiles stilled and stared at him. Derek felt a shiver run up his spine. 

“You said before;  _ ‘Scott, I think there’s something in here.’ _ Who’s Scott?” 

“McCall.” Stiles said, a mask of calm slipping over his face. “He’s dead.” 

“So is Jennifer Blake.” said Derek. 

“Your girlfriend?” Stiles asked. 

“Was Scott your boyfriend?” Derek asked. Stiles watched him and then smiled, but his eyes looked hard and made of steel. 

“No, he was my brother.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow sceptically. Why didn’t Stiles brother have Stiles’ last name? Stiles straightened up and pushed the tea away. 

“Goodnight, Derek,” he said and on bare feet softly walked back to the bedrooms. When Derek followed him he caught a glimpse of Stiles face, looking worn and ashy, before Stiles closed the doors between them. 

* * *

Stiles was in the living room, watching cartoons and eating cereal on the couch. Derek was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading his book. Since last night they had ignored each other, but since Derek couldn’t be more than ten meters away from Stiles Derek still kept him in his sights. 

He had a clear vision from his seat to Stiles, right down to where he saw Stiles chew with his mouth open. Derek ignored him and turned a page, and then his phone called. 

A quick glance told him it was his mother, and for a moment he considered not answering. When morning had arrived all the worry from the dream had been chased away, and now he just felt vaguely embarrassed that he had woken his parents up. 

But Hales’ did not ignore their alpha, so Derek accepted the call. “Hey mom.” 

“Derek, you were right,” his mother said, forgoing entirely to greet him. “The electrical wires in the laundry room were broken - the fire department said it was just a matter of time before it would have caused a fire.” 

Derek straightened up in his seat. His body felt frozen. “What?” 

“And your friend, Stiles, was right too. The battery in the fire-alarm was out.” 

Derek looked to Stiles, laughing at something on the tv. “But, how could the electrical wires have broken?” 

“The fire department suggested rats,” said Talia drily. Derek frowned. 

“Rats?” 

“Rats, chewing through the wires,” Talia agreed. “Now, my question is, how did you even know there was an issue?”

Derek thought back on the dream. He could still feel the heat of the flames on his face. 

“I don’t know how to explain that, mom,” he said truthfully and shook his head. “It has to do with my job, but I can’t tell you about it.” 

Derek’s parents were well-versed in Derek being secretive about his job. There were a lot of things he couldn’t legally divulge, and a lot of NDA’s he had signed over the years. His mother didn’t push him, but she was silent for a long moment. 

“Okay, darling,” she said eventually. “Know that I’m proud of you.” 

Derek could feel himself preen under the praise of his alpha like a little kid. He was a grown man. He cleared his throat. 

“Thanks, mom,” he said instead.

“I have to go, I have a client arriving in a few minutes.” Derek nodded. That was at least familiar; his mom having to pay attention to others. It made him relax a little. 

“Yeah - hey, I was supposed to say hi to you, from sheriff Stilinski - he said you had worked together on a case.” 

“Stilinski?” his mother asked curiously. “That was years ago, when did you - wait, Stiles, your coworker, is that the sheriff's son?” 

Derek felt surprised. His mom had an excellent memory, but remembering the son of a man she had worked with once, years ago, when Stiles had been a teenager? That was a little too impressive, even for Alpha Hale. He glanced Stiles’ direction again. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” he said. “You know him?” 

“I remember that he and his friend involved themselves in the investigation,” his mother said seriously. “The friend died after an attack from the alpha.” 

Derek blinked. Stiles was flipping through channels, searching for something else to watch. 

“Oh,” he said silently. “I didn’t know that.” 

Talia was silent on the phone, then she sighed. “Well, if you see the sheriff give him my best. And to Stiles.” 

“Sure.” Derek mumbled. There was a rustle over the phone. 

“I really have to go, Derek.” 

Derek shook himself out of his reprieve and nodded, even though his mom couldn’t see him. 

“Yeah, sure. I’m glad everything is okay now.” 

“Me too,” said Talia. “Bye.” 

Derek slowly pocketed his phone and tried to go back to reading, but the words seemed to bounce around on the page. He snapped it shut, let it fall on the kitchen island and walked into the living room with his coffee in hand. 

“That was my mother,” he said. Stiles glanced up at him and shrugged lightly. “She said that rats had chewed through the electrical wiring in the laundry room. And that the battery in the smoke alarm was out.” 

“Riveting,” said Stiles and returned his eyes to the tv. Derek stepped over, grabbed the remote from him and turned the tv off. 

“How can we both have a dream about my family home burning, and then rats have eaten through the electricals?” 

Stiles turned to face him, his face raised up. It made him look like he was up to something. Stiles raised an eyebrow. 

“Coincidence?” he said calmly. 

“Bullshit.” Derek snorted. “That was a premonition of some kind.” 

“Derek, I’m not psychic,” Stiles scoffed. 

“Well you’re something!” Derek said loudly. Louder than he meant too, but he was starting to feel seriously creeped out by the fact that his family home had apparently been moments away from going up in flames. And that he had a future vision about it. 

Stiles tilted his head slowly and blinked. 

“You think that we can predict the future?” he said, his voice low. “You think that anything about what we are is useful?” 

Derek felt the room grow colder. Stiles moved off the couch, but the way he moved didn’t quite look natural. He was kind of crunched together and he kept his head tilted, eyes trained steadily on Derek. 

“We are chaos, Derek,” he hissed and lunged forth, grabbed Derek’s wrist with such a hard grip Derek felt his bones crack underneath him. 

“We could kill  _ all of you _ ,” Stiles screamed and twisted, and that definitely broke Derek’s wrist. He screamed out and Stiles leaned down next to his face. “And you think we’re here to prevent your house from burning down?” 

Stiles grinned; cold and hard and predatory. Then the door beeped open and guards with weapons rushed in. Stiles looked up and released Derek. 

Derek immediately pulled away, pressing his broken wrist to his chest. 

“Get down on the ground,” Brunski screamed. Stiles’ grin grew large. 

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he purred. Derek glanced at Brunski and saw him grin. 

“I always love the sarcastic ones.” Brunski then reached into his pocket and pulled forth an amulet that he shoved in Stiles' direction. 

A golden glow burst forth from the amulet. Stiles dropped to one knee and hissed. It seemed like he staggered under some invisible pressure. Then another guard Derek didn’t know the name of stepped forth and stabbed a syringe into Stiles arm. 

Stiles flinched and tried to push the guard away, but his movements were already becoming disoriented. 

“Let go of me,” Stiles mumbled. He tried to stand, but stumbled as he tried. Derek saw him jerk his head up, a mixture of panic and anger on his face. 

“Go to sleep, little man,” Brunski said. 

“Let me… out,” Stiles gasped, then he dropped down. 

Derek stared at his still form. 

“You okay?” Brunski asked and offered him a hand. Derek looked at it, then allowed Brunski to pull him to his feet. 

“He broke something,” Derek said. Brunski nodded to a guard. 

“Call in a medic,” he said, then walked over to Stiles and grabbed his arm. Another guard joined and together they hoisted Stiles up between them and dragged him off to the bedrooms. 

Even unconscious, Derek felt Stiles' magic pull him with. Once in Stiles bedroom Brunski and the other guard dropped Stiles down unceremoniously. Derek heard Stiles moan faintly as he hit the bed. 

The other guard stepped away, but Brunski remained by the bed, staring down at Stiles for a moment. Derek stepped inside and straightened to his full height. 

“What was that amulet?” he asked harshly. Brunski dragged his eyes off of Stiles and to Derek, then he scoffed and held it out for Derek to inspect. 

It was similar to the one Stiles had placed over his neck before he teleported them out, but this one had a carving inside of it. A backwards five; the japanese kanji for self. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's dad is named Anthony, after the real life husband of actress Alicia Coppola, who plays Talia Hale on Teen Wolf.


	6. Waste

Along with a medic Argent arrived in the free zone. Derek sat next to Stiles on the bed as the medic examined his wrist. A big, portable x-ray machine was used to assess the damage. 

“Hi, I’m Kate,” the medic said with a smile as she maneuvered Derek’s wrist. “Looks like we don’t have to reset the bones.” 

“What happened?” said Argent. Derek looked from Kate to Argent and shook his head slowly. 

“Last night he was sleepwalking,” Derek said. Argent frowned but waved a go on gesture to him. Derek hesitated, but knew he had to tell his superiors about what had happened last night. The fact that they both dreamt of the burning Hale house, and Jennifer Blake, and that Stiles had had ash on his hands once he woke up. There was definitely something going on, and Argent needed to know about it. “And - I don’t know, we had the same dream.”

So Derek explained everything, about how he too had sleepwalked, and how Stiles later on had known things from Derek’s own dream. He finished with the worn-down wires in his family’s home and how Stiles had reacted when Derek asked him about it. Through it all, Argent’s frown grew deeper. 

“Have things like that happened before?” Derek asked. Kate was wrapping his wrist with a plaster and Argent glanced at the back of Stiles’ head. 

“Sleepwalking, yes.” Argent said and shook his head. “Sharing dreams, no. You said he knew the battery was out in the smoke alarm?” 

“Yeah, he specifically said it was out.” Argent frowned again and looked back to Derek. 

“If this happens again, you shoot to subdue him.” Derek raised an eyebrow. Argent looked serious. “He’s never been violent against staff before, so if this is a developing problem we can’t take any chances.” 

“Understood, Sir,” said Derek. Argent’s eyes slipped back at Stiles and stared at him. 

“So, all fixed up, hotstuff,” Kate said cheerfully. Derek looked at the cast and nodded thanks. 

“I’ll up the watch,” Argent said. 

* * *

Upping the watch apparently meant security inside the free zone, and since Derek couldn’t leave Stiles’ ten meter radius, he was stuck in his bedroom and the kitchen as Stiles slept. At lunch, Yukimura arrived with a cart from the mess hall and placed a tray of lasagna in front of Derek. 

“Figured you might be hungry,” Yukimura said and sat down opposite him with her own tray. Derek slowly lowered his book to the kitchen island and glanced at her. 

“Thanks.” he said. Yukimura smiled and started eating. She nodded to the book excitedly. 

“Oh my god, I love  _ the Heart is a Lonely Hunter _ ,” she said. “Have you gotten to the end yet? It’s just so heartbreaking and - oh, I shouldn’t spoil it!” 

Derek watched her and smiled faintly. “I’ve read it before.” 

Yukimura relaxed and smiled. 

“Oh, good.” she sighed. Derek started eating and allowed Yukimura to talk against him. After his time with Stiles he felt like he already had some practice with that. 

“How long have you worked here?” Derek asked eventually. Yukimura shrugged lightly. 

“Two years,” she said. “Pays off my student loans.” 

“I can imagine,” Derek said.

Before either he or Yukimura could say anything else Derek heard Stiles whimper from the bedroom. It didn’t sound like he was fully awake, but Derek definitely heard the name Scott pass his lips. Derek stood and went to the bedroom, completely ignoring Yukimura. 

Stiles had twisted around in his sleep and laid now with his face against the door. Derek could see he was frowning in his sleep, but when Derek stepped inside he carefully cracked one eye open. 

“Derek?” he murmured. Derek smiled at him. 

“Hi,” he said and sat down on the bed next to him. “Are you okay?” 

“I think I’m dying,” Stiles moaned, and Derek knew he was going to be alright. Stiles’ eyes travelled down to Derek’s cast and he sobered up. “Did I do that?” 

“Yeah,” Derek said silently. Stiles’ eyes glistened a little in the dim light. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Derek said and shrugged. “I heal. Werewolf.” 

“Right,” Stiles murmured. “Could toss you through a wall and you’d shake it off.” 

“Please don’t do that,” Derek said seriously, then smiled at him. “At least, if you have to, avoid the face.” 

Stiles watched him, then smiled lightly. “Of course. Gotta avoid the moneymaker.” 

“Can I get you anything?” Derek asked. “Water? Something to eat?” 

Stiles shook his head. “Unless you can get me a big mac and curly fries, no.” 

“There is lasagna,” Derek offered. Stiles scoffed. 

“I am offended you’d even put curly fries as equal to lasagna,” he grumbled and shook his head. “Now, get out of here, Wolfie, and leave me to my misery.” 

Derek nodded and stood back up. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” 

“A bottle of jack.” Stiles mumbled. Derek scoffed and went back to the kitchen. Yukimura was still there, and she gave him a funny look when he returned. Derek ignored her and started eating the cooling lasagna. 

* * *

Derek was tired, but he had trouble sleeping. Ever since the dream he kept feeling the heat of flames on his face when he closed his eyes, and the few hours of sleep he’d gotten in the last week had been plagued with the memory of Jennifer Blake and her sweet, innocent eyes and smile.

His claws embedding in her chest, the way her face flickered from beautiful to monstrous. The roar when her magic exploded around him and burned him to ash… he felt thin-skinned and vulnerable, like he had any moment could pop like a kernel under intense heat. 

So he read, late into the night until his eyes couldn’t keep up anymore, and then he slept for a few hours. Unfortunately there were still a few hours before that happened tonight. 

Derek heard Stiles before the knock on the door, and then the bedroom door pushed open and Stiles poked his head in. Derek lowered his book to his lap and looked up from bed. 

“Hey, Derek.” Stiles murmured. He was dressed in Batman pyjamas, but the shirt was too big for him, like he had lost lots of weight since he bought it, and the neckhole slid down to expose one of his shoulders. 

“Hey,” Derek said softly. “Can’t sleep?” 

“Nah,” Stiles shook his head. He leaned against the doorframe and looked around the room. “Haldol always fucks me up for days.” 

“I could make you some tea,” Derek offered. Stiles shook his head. 

“Could I -” Stiles stopped and watched him, then he shook his head again, slowly and swallowed. “I - I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” 

Stiles pushed off from the doorframe and made to retreat into his own room. Derek frowned. “Stiles, spit it out.” 

Stiles stopped, glanced back at him again, then licked his lips hesitantly. 

“Could I - sleep in your bed?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and rubbed his exposed neck. 

“I - just for tonight? I can’t - I need some… touch.” Derek could hear his heartbeat pound quickly against his ribcage. Derek thought of sheriff Stilinski’s words, that it had been a tough eight years. He pictured Stiles all alone here, with guards to keep him from hurting himself and others, and escort him to different places like a graze cow. 

Stiles shook his head. 

“Forget it, it was stupid, I shouldn’t have -” 

“Yeah, you can sleep here,” Derek said and shifted to make more room on the bed. Stiles stared at him like he hadn’t quite heard him, then he ducked back into his room and reappeared with his own pillow a second later.

Before Derek really had time to process it, Stiles had dived into his bed and was puffing up the pillow to make himself comfortable. Derek arranged the duvet to cover both of them, then he put his book away. 

“You can read, I don’t mind.” Stiles said. Derek scoffed and turned off the light, then sank down in the bed. He twisted around so he faced Stiles and they watched each other in the dark. 

“How old are you Stiles?” 

Derek saw Stiles’ eyes move over his face, searching for something, then he smiled softly. “Which one of us?” 

Derek frowned. “You.” 

“Twenty-five.”

So actually a little older than Derek had pinned him. He had still called it, but not by much. And the problem was that Stiles was just a kid. He didn’t deserve any of this. When Derek was 25 he had just gotten his job with Deucalion, and yes, it had been brutal and demanding, but at least Derek got to have nights and weekends. At least Derek got to have a life. 

“And the nogitsune?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged and started working on a thread on the cover. 

“It’s older,” Stiles said slowly. Derek waited, but it appeared like Stiles wasn’t going to say more about it, so Derek poked him in the side. 

“How old?” he asked. Stiles slapped him away and gave him a sour look. 

“Like, a thousand.” 

Derek bristled. He hadn’t even heard of a demon that age before - at least not outside of mythology. A possession? Hardly. 

“When you use your powers, does it feel like it’s controlling you?” 

Stiles squirmed a little in the bed but shook his head. Derek frowned and watched him. 

“Are you sure?” 

“When you’re in your wolf-form, does it feel like the wolf controls you?” Stiles asked. He looked calm but serious, which only made Derek frown deeper. Slowly he shook his head. 

“No.” When he was in his wolf-form he felt free. It felt like a natural part of him. Sometimes it felt like the wolf was who he was supposed to be, and this whole human body and human emotions just complicated things. 

The wolf was freedom. Power. Everything that was Derek, pushed to its extreme, and to it’s best. But Derek was born this way, and Stiles was possessed by a thousand year old beast that could summon shadow-creatures that tore people to shreds. 

“There is…” Stiles started slowly, licking his lips. “Very little left of me, Derek.

“It doesn’t control me. It  _ is _ me.” 

Derek furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

Stiles laughed, but it sounded hollow. He tilted his head, then put a hand over Derek’s clothed chest. 

“Derek, look at me. I’m wasting away. I wake up, run the hamster wheel all day long, then go to sleep to do it again. One day they’ll summon me somewhere and it will take too much of my reserves, and I’ll burn out. I’ll crumble to ash.” 

Something stirred in Derek’s chest at that. Stiles sounded certain of it, and it made Derek feel sick to his stomach. 

“You are still you,” he said and shook his head. “Or are you telling me that a thousand year old demon is a chatterbox who likes to play CoD and Animal Crossing and cook healthy meals for your dad?” 

The silence between them felt pressing, and then Stiles’ fingers twisted into Derek’s t-shirt and Stiles sniffled and laughed at the same time. It sounded weird, and Derek hated that the sound came out of Stiles. 

“No,” Stiles said and shook his head. “No, it doesn’t care about those things. But  _ I  _ cling to them with my teeth, because every day they become harder and harder to do. Harder to care about. And that’s how I know there’s too little left of me. Because I’m starting to not care, too.” 

Derek watched him with a frown. Stiles stopped with the sniffles and patted his chest. 

“And that’s okay,” Stiles said. He smiled. Derek frowned at him, then reached up and grabbed his hand so he’d stop with that damn tickling. 

“Does your father say that it’s okay?” he asked. Stiles' face fell and he grimaced. Derek felt him try to pull his hand loose, but Derek held onto him. “That you’re giving up on yourself, and him?” 

“I am not,” Stiles hissed and glared at him. Derek raised an eyebrow. 

“Then what’s this quitter-talk?” 

“I have  _ tried _ , Derek!” Stiles shouted. “For years, and I’m tired!”

Stiles stopped and jerked his hand loose. Derek watched him - kind of expected him to get up and leave, but Stiles stayed in the bed. He just curled into himself and watched Derek like Derek had threatened to beat him in the face. Then Stiles' face crumbled and he took a deep breath. 

“I’m tired.” Stiles repeated, slowly and with feeling, like he really wanted to drive it in through Derek’s thick skull. He shook his head and took another breath. “I don’t  _ want  _ to do this to dad, but I’ve already been doing it for  _ years _ . It never ends. It’s already  _ in _ me. 

“I’m just another thing that he gets to watch waste away.” 

Derek swallowed. Stiles watched him, then put his hand back on Derek’s chest. Derek placed his own over Stiles’. They watched each other for a long moment, then Stiles rearranged himself back on the pillow and sighed. 

“Please leave it.” Stiles said. Derek watched him, then nodded slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Just - tell me something.” 

“Tell you what?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged and closed his eyes. 

“Anything,” he mumbled. “Your voice is hot.” 

Derek laughed, and Stiles smiled. He raised his left hand and the silver band flashed on his ring finger. 

“Tell me about whoever owns this.” 

Derek looked at the ring, then Stiles’ face. It looked like he was trying to relax, but his mouth kept quirking up. Derek sighed. 

“Well, it’s my father’s. He made it himself.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, I need to visualize it,” Stiles murmured. “Your dad? What’s his name? Does he look like you?” 

“No, he’s blond. I look more like my mom.” 

“At least tell me he’s hot.” Derek grimaced. 

“Stiles, ew, that’s my father.” 

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Stiles nodded softly and kept his eyes closed. “At least tell me your mom is hot.” 

“Oh, god, I’m not telling you shit.” Derek gruffed. Stiles laughed. 

* * *

When Derek woke, he had actually slept better than he had in awhile. Longer than just the dream/nightmare he had shared with Stiles, if he was honest with himself. The sun was coming through the window and he felt warm and cozy. 

He was also the big spoon of Stiles, who had somehow entwined their legs together like an octopus. Derek remained like that for a moment, partly because it was really freaking comfortable, and also because he didn’t want to wake Stiles up if this was one of the first good sleeps he’d had since the drugs got forced into his system. 

That thought didn’t last long, however, because Derek’s phone started ringing from the nightstand. Stiles groaned, twisted around and slapped Derek in the face, but he didn’t stop snoring. 

Derek slapped his hand away, reached over to his phone and accepted the call. 

“Hello?” he grumbled. 

“Shut up,” Stiles mumbled. 

“Derek, it’s Laura.” 

Derek immediately woke up. He disentangled from Stiles and sat up in the bed. 

“Laura? What’s wrong? Is the pack okay?” 

“Yeah, the pack is fine,” Laura said, sounding like she had been crying. Laura never cried. Laura was the heir. He felt his heart beat rapidly like his chest was going to explode. He saw the house in flames, and the howling of his mother as one by one the pack bonds broke. “Derek, it’s dad. Dad had a heart attack. The doctors don’t know if he’ll make it.” 

Derek blinked. His chest felt numb. Stiles sleepily placed a hand on Derek’s back. 

“Derek? Are you okay?” Stiles asked. 

“If you want to see him, you should hurry,” said Laura, then she hung up. 


	7. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upped the rating to explicit because of sexual themes and self harming practices (briefly mentioned).

Besides Derek’s first day and the summon, Derek hadn’t been in Argent’s office that much. There hadn’t really been a need for it, but now he was sitting in one of the uncomfortable modern pieces the house called furniture, while Stiles was prompted up on the armrest of the other. Derek didn’t even question why he wasn’t sitting ordinarily. Argent was behind his desk, and he looked very grim and serious. 

“I’m very sorry to hear about your father, Hale, but I’m afraid I can’t grant you leave.” Argent said with a sigh. He honestly sounded apologetic. Derek understood. He had known this would be the answer to begin with. Staying with his client was literally his job, and since he couldn’t leave Stiles’ side - well… 

Stiles however, got livid. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Chris?” he practically seethed from his perch on the armrest. Derek looked at him just in time to see a particularly vicious glare directed towards Argent. “His dad is dying, and you’re not going to let him go see him?” 

Argent looked between them and leaned his elbows on his desk. 

“Frankly, Stiles, no.” he said calmly. “After you broke Hale’s wrist and had to be sedated, I wouldn’t even let you see  _ your father _ if he was dying.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Stiles snapped. 

“Stiles, calm down.” Derek said. Stiles glared at him, but Derek ignored the look. “I understand, Sir. I’ll call my sister and tell her I can’t make it. She will understand.” 

“Your dad could die.” Stiles said angrily. Derek resisted the urge to growl, or push Stiles into the wall. Instead he took a deep breath in through his nose and out of his mouth. 

“I am aware, Stiles, but like I told you before, my family is aware of the particulars of my job, and they understand that I can’t drop everything. Even for emergencies.”

Stiles turned to glare at Derek then, and he crossed his arms. “Well, you should. Your hot, blond father is dying as we speak, and you’re gonna stay here because Argent’s scared?” 

Argent shot Derek a confused look, and Derek shook his head. 

“I’m staying to do my job.” Derek said calmly. 

Before anyone could say anything Stiles bounced up and Argent’s desk-decorations went crashing into the wall. Stiles screamed and suddenly his magic was all around them, reaching out like tendrils of black smoke. They kind of looked like… tails. 

The magic roared and Derek felt like a trickle run down his neck. Then Argent reached for the gun on his belt and Derek, before Argent had the chance to draw, stood up and stepped between them. 

“Stiles,  _ calm down _ .” he said again, but this time a lot more serious. Stiles glared at him, his eyes dark. For a moment it looked like he wanted to tear through Derek just to see what would happen, but then Stiles blinked and stumbled back. The black tendrils disappeared as fast as they came and Stiles looked around the room in confusion. 

Derek reached out and touched his arm to steady him. Stiles looked down at where their bodies touched, but didn’t say anything. Derek glanced back at Argent and gave him a nod.

“Thank you for your time, Sir,” he said, then shoved Stiles out of the office and back into the free zone. Once inside, he maneuvered Stiles to the kitchen and started making tea. Stiles sank down in a chair and Derek could feel his eyes glued onto his back as he worked. He gritted his teeth and slammed the kettle a little harsher than intended. “ _ What _ ?” 

“You’re not going to go see your dying father?” Stiles asked. He sounded far away. Derek winced and imagined his dad, lying on a hospital bed with Talia, Laura and Cora around him. Without Derek, and without the silver wedding band he had worn since before Derek was born. He took a deep breath and turned to face Stiles. 

Stiles looked young and vulnerable. He hadn’t fixed his bed hair, so it stood every which way. He was still in his pyjamas, that’s how fast he had demanded that they’d talk to Argent when he found out. And that’s when Derek realized that the outburst wasn’t about Derek and his father, it was about Stiles. 

“I’m not saying that it doesn’t hurt, Stiles,” Derek said carefully. Stiles turned his dark eyes against him and raised an eyebrow. Derek shook his head and looked down on the silver ring on his hand. “Of course I want to go. But I wouldn’t have been able to go if this had happened while I was deployed, either. 

“As truly heartbreaking as it is, it is the reality of my kind of work.” He sighed, poured in water into two mugs and handed one over to Stiles. Stiles wrapped his fingers around it automatically and stared down at the fog that rose. Derek sat down opposite him and cradled his own mug. “And I appreciate that you care, I really do.” 

They grew silent. Derek blew on his tea and watched Stiles seriously. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asked. Stiles continued to stare down in the tea like it held all the secrets of the universe. Derek almost didn’t think he would get an answer when Stiles finally glanced up at him. 

“Dad’s been a cop my entire life,” Stiles said and drummed his fingers against the mug. “One of my first memories is actually of me, staying up all night because I was scared that he’d die on the graveyard shift. Because I didn’t know what the graveyard shift meant, so I was convinced that it was extremely dangerous.

“And mom kept trying to say that dad was fine, but I didn’t believe her.” Derek waited patiently for more. Stiles took several large gulps of tea, which had to burn his mouth because it was still extremely hot and then he shook his head. “I kept thinking that dad was gonna die, and then it was mom who -” 

Stiles stopped, stared down at the tea. Derek reached out and placed a gentle hand over his arm. Stiles’ eyes moved from the cup to Derek’s fingers. Stiles nodded slowly, lost in memories. 

“She got frontotemporal dementia. Parts of her brain atrophied.” he mumbled. “She became paranoid and delusional. She was convinced I was trying to kill her.” 

Derek grimaced and squeezed softly. Stiles took his mug in the hand Derek wasn’t touching so he could drink more and not break away from Derek’s grasp. 

“And maybe I was.” Stiles said silently, thoughtfully. Derek thought that that sounded like bullshit, but he didn’t argue with Stiles about it. He didn’t know how, but he was certain that this was something Stiles had never said before, but something that he had thought about - and often, if the dark expression on his face was to be believed. 

“People die around me,” Stiles said and lowered his mug. “Mom, dad’s drinking himself to death because of me.  _ Scott _ …” 

“Stiles,” Derek said calmly and squeezed his arm again. “Listen to me. Sometimes people die. And that’s not your fault.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue. He opened his mouth, and then the mug broke into a thousand pieces. They both jumped. Stiles stared down at the shards and Derek rushed to get a towel. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Derek asked and returned. Stiles shook his head and showed his unhurt hands. Derek nodded relieved and started wiping the liquid. 

Stiles pulled away and just watched Derek work. Derek collected the shards into the trash, and Stiles stood up. 

“I’ll take a shower,” Stiles mumbled. Derek watched him quickly walk away towards the bedrooms, and he sighed. 

He needed to call Laura and say he wouldn’t come. 

Fuck. 

He followed after Stiles into his own bedroom. He could hear the shower run behind Stiles’ bathroom door and he reached out and picked up his phone from the nightstand again. His hands trembled as he dialled Laura’s number. 

It got worse as he waited for her to pick up. 

“Derek?” Laura said the moment she picked up. He pressed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt like he would cry. When had he cried last? 

“Hey Laura,” he said shakily. He could hear Laura’s breath through the phone-line. “How’s dad?” 

“It’s critical,” Laura said slowly. “He still hasn't woken up.” 

Derek nodded and swallowed thickly. He needed to say it, but a lump in his throat threatened to cut off his breathing. Before he could get himself under control, Derek heard Stiles hiss from the bathroom, and then - 

“Derek!” Stiles shouted. Derek rushed up, pushed through the doors that separated them, phone still in hand. 

In the bathroom Stiles was sitting on the floor. The shower was on, but it didn’t look like Stiles had attempted to get in. The smell of blood overpowered Derek immediately. 

Stiles held a shard from the broken mug in one hand, and on his arm he had dug a deep, vertical gash into his skin. Blood was pouring out quickly. 

“Shit,” Derek screamed and dashed over to him and grabbed the bleeding arm to stabilise the bleeding. The moment his hands touched Stiles the magic shimmered and suddenly Derek felt a jolt, like he had been hit with a truck. The magic swirled and Derek, as well as all light, got sucked away from its place and into Stiles. 

* * *

The transportation was rough, much rougher than when Stiles had done it for the summons. When Derek felt his feet finally hit solid ground again he stumbled to the floor and retched. He coughed, and Stiles patted his shoulder. 

Derek growled, pushed his head off the damn floor and grabbed Stiles bleeding arm again. “What the hell did you do?!” 

“Derek?” a familiar, shocked voice said behind him. Derek’s eyes widened and he looked back to see that yes, behind him was his sister Laura, the phone still raised to her ear as she stared at him. Behind Laura stood Cora and his mother, next to a hospital bed where his dad laid, passed out and hooked up to a bunch of electronics. 

Oh god. Stiles had transported them out of the house and across the country to his dying dad. 

Derek felt several emotions at once. Relief, grief, longing to rush over to his pack and his dad. And anger. Definitely anger. He focused on that one; forced his training to kick in. He turned back to Stiles, took pressure on Stiles’ bleeding arm, but the bleeding was already slowing down. 

“You get us back,  _ right now _ ,” Derek growled. Stiles wasn’t even supposed to be outside of the free zone without at least ten guards, and here they were with only Derek. 

“I can’t,” Stiles said calmly, peering curiously over Derek’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean you can’t?” he hissed. “You’ve teleported us back before.” 

“I don’t have the amulet,” Stiles said and shrugged. “That place it warded to the teeth - out is easy, in is supposed to withstand a fucking magical nuke - you need the amulet to teleport in.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Derek hissed, but he already knew Stiles was telling the truth. What was he supposed to do now? The alarm must have gone the moment Stiles teleported them out of there. Argent had to try and figure out what happened. He needed to call Argent. 

Derek released Stiles’ arm and picked up his phone off the floor. He quickly shut off the call to Laura, just a meter away from them, and dialed Argent’s number.

Argent answered immediately. 

“Hale, what the fuck just happened?” 

“Stiles teleported us out, Sir. I - I take full responsibility.” 

Over the phone Argent hissed, and on the floor next to Derek Stiles hissed as well. 

“No, you don’t,” Stiles said loudly, so loudly that Argent heard him through the phone. “You had no idea - I did it.” 

Derek growled and glared at him. Stiles jutted his chin out defiantly. 

“Hale, listen to me,” Argent said with a forced calm. “You need to secure him, immediately.” 

Derek glanced back over his shoulder at his wide-eyed family. His eyes travelled over to his mother. 

“We could reach my pack’s territory within 30 minutes, Sir.” he said. “It’s heavily warded, and my family have had a strong bond to the land for over three hundred years. It’s secure.” 

“Do it.” Argent said through his teeth. “We’ll get there as fast as possible.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Derek said and Argent cut the call. Derek glared at Stiles, jumped up on his feet and jerked Stiles up. “Move.” 

“Say hi to your dad,” Stiles said. Derek grabbed Stiles’ shirt and pressed him up against the wall. He heard the air leave Stiles’ lungs and he growled. Stiles just grew still and… bared his throat for him. Derek blinked at it. He heard Stiles’ heart beat calmly against his ribcage. 

“Derek,” said his mother from behind him. The alpha voice commanded him, and Derek released Stiles and stepped back. Stiles remained against the wall, but his eyes calmly settled over Derek’s face. 

Derek took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over his beard, and pointed at him. 

“ _ Stay _ ,” he ordered, then turned, walked past Laura and Cora and his mother, to his dad on the bed. He looked down on him and swallowed. 

His dad had always been strong but now he looked small and frail on the bed. Derek reached out and took his hand, and he could feel pain and something that definitely was painkillers running through his dad’s system. 

“Hey dad,” he whispered and squeezed the limp hand lightly. “It’s Derek.” 

Had this been a movie Derek was sure that his dad’s eyes would flutter open now against all odds. But of course, in reality, his dad just kept sleeping in critical condition. Derek leaned down and kissed his forehead. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” he said gently and released his hand. “I love you.” 

Then he looked to his mom who stared at him with cloudy eyes. His voice stocked in his throat. He couldn’t explain what was going on, or why he needed to leave, but he did. He needed to secure Stiles. 

“We have to go,” Derek murmured. Then Stiles was next to him. He had moved so silently that Derek hadn’t even heard him. Derek blinked and looked at him, but Stiles kept his gaze on Derek’s father’s face. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, but Stiles gestured a hand his way and suddenly Derek’s voice really caught in his throat. He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t move. Stiles leaned over his father and grabbed his chin like in a trance. 

Derek could just stare, and then dark veins appeared on Stiles’ hand. They travelled upwards over his pale skin - disappeared under his shirt and reappeared to sliver up his throat. 

Stiles inhaled harshly, a mix between relief and anguish, and then he groaned and shuddered. Stiles jerked away, gasping for air and clutching over his heart. And Derek’s dad opened his eyes and blinked confused. 

Derek could move again and he reached out and steadied Stiles, and Derek’s father moved his head towards them. 

“Derek?” Tony said silently. Derek looked to him, then Talia who had clasped his dad’s arm. 

“Tony?” Talia asked gently. Derek watched as his dad looked to his mom and smiled. Derek glanced at Laura who stared at the hospital bed in shock. She tore her eyes away and onto Derek and Stiles, where her gaze stayed, eyebrows furrowed. 

Derek looked back at Stiles. The bags under his eyes were severe, but he wasn’t gasping for air anymore. He slowly lowered his hand from his heart and blinked at Derek. Derek just swallowed and looked him over for other injuries. 

“How did you do that?” he asked. Stiles looked past him to Derek’s mother and father and he frowned. 

“No idea, I have never done that before.” 

“I’m gonna call the doctors,” Laura said. Derek turned back to his parents, and particularly his alpha. 

“Mom, I’m sorry, but we have to go.” he said. His mother looked at him, and the grip he had on Stiles. Derek shook his head. “I can’t explain why.” 

Talia looked between them and her husband, then nodded. 

“Go,” she said. 

“Can I use your car?” Derek asked. 

“You can take mine,” Cora said and pulled forth keys from her bag. Derek took them with relief and gave his little sister a thankful smile, then he started pulling Stiles towards the door. Before they were completely out doctors were already arriving, and Derek stepped to let them pass. Stiles leaned towards him. 

“You didn’t tell me your entire family was hot,” he theatrically whispered. Derek gave him a look and pulled him towards the hospital garage. 

* * *

Derek may have broken a few traffic laws, but once they passed the wards into the preserve he relaxed and eased up on the gas pedal. Stiles was silent in the passenger's seat, staring out through the window at the dense trees. It actually made Derek a little uncomfortable, because Stiles was a talker. 

When they drove up to the house Stiles leaned forth to see better. His eyes took everything in, then he glanced at Derek. 

“This is where you grew up?” he asked. Derek just nodded and parked. They jumped out and Derek hurried Stiles up the porch. Stiles was looking around interestedly. Before they reached the door the door swung open. 

“Cora, what -” Peter said, then stopped when he saw Derek and Stiles. Peter blinked and furrowed his eyebrows. “Derek? What are you doing here?” 

Derek pushed Stiles inside and closed the door quickly. Immediately he relaxed and sighed out in relief. Peter looked Stiles over hesitantly. 

“Who’s your friend?” he asked. 

“Stiles,” Stiles said cheerfully, then faced Derek. “Seriously, is everyone in your family hot?” 

Derek groaned and pulled forth his phone. “I have to call Argent.” 

Peter looked between them, then as Derek raised his phone turned his attention to Stiles. 

“Coffee?” Peter asked pleasantly. Stiles brightened up. 

“Oh, I  _ love _ coffee.” 

Derek didn’t comment on the fact that through the entire time he had known Stiles he had never seen him drink coffee. Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that that was by design. 

“We’re at the house, Sir,” Derek said the moment Argent answered. 

“We’ll be there in six hours,” Argent replied. Derek nodded and followed Stiles and Peter to the kitchen. 

“We’ll be waiting.” 

He hung up and watched as Stiles took in his childhood home. Peter started preparing coffee as Stiles marched up to a bunch of pictures on the wall. 

“Oh god, is this you?” Stiles said excitedly and peered closer at a picture of Derek and Laura when he was ten. Stiles glanced back at him with a wide grin. “So when did you turn into the badass sourwolf you are now?” 

Derek ignored him. Peter looked between them, and Derek saw his eyes settle on the silver ring on Derek’s hand, before it sought out the identical one on Stiles’ finger. Peter raised an eyebrow and looked levelly at Derek. 

“Not that I don’t love to see my dear nephew, but is anyone going to fill me in on what’s going on?” Peter said and crossed his arms. “Weren’t you in Washington?” 

_ ‘And aren’t you going to the hospital?’  _ remained silently between them. Derek frowned and shook his head. 

“I can’t explain, it’s classified.” 

“Not to me,” Stiles said and picked down a picture of Derek as a little baby. He shot Peter a smile over his shoulder and completely ignored the look Derek shot him. “I am a multimillion dollar investment by the United States government and when Derek wasn’t allowed to visit his dying father in the hospital I busted us out of there to come here. Derek’s cranky because he’s a stickler for the rules.” 

Derek gritted his teeth and tried to calm down. Then Stiles gave him a look and it just sent his blood boiling. He stalked over and grabbed a hold of Stiles shirt again. This time it was the table Stiles got pushed into and Derek saw him wince as his hip hit it. 

“I am not cranky,” Derek hissed. “I am furious. You have jeopardized your own security as well as mine, disobeyed direct orders, manipulated me to get a hold of a means to do it and you have probably lost me my job. I’m lucky if I don’t get court-martialed!” 

Stiles stilled under his grip and his eyes widened. The shock on his face was enough for Derek to let him go, but not enough to stop being mad. Stiles swallowed and shook his head. 

“I - no, that won’t happen,” Stiles said. “I’ll - I’ll tell them it wasn’t your fault. I’ll take the blame, you had nothing to do with this. Argent knows that I am impulsive, he knows it’s my fault.” 

And the thing was that Stiles sounded so sincere, like he really believed that would help. And the panicked tone of his voice told Derek what he already knew, that Stiles had done this without thinking the consequences through, which just made Derek feel worse. Because that meant that Stiles had seriously just wanted to help Derek see his father one more time before he died. That meant that Stiles just cared about  _ Derek, _ and fuck if it didn’t mean that Derek cared about Stiles too. 

He wasn’t even upset about probably losing his job or being court-martialed, he was upset that it would mean he’d have to leave Stiles alone in that cage again until Stiles glum prediction actually came true and Stiles crumbled to ash. Until Stiles died, alone and used, treated like a weapon instead of a person. 

“That won’t matter, Stiles,” Derek said and his voice went soft all on it’s own. “I’m supposed to protect you, but I’m also supposed to guard you. And I obviously can’t keep you under control.” 

Stiles stared at him, then he turned back and meticulously hung the photo back onto the wall. Derek turned away and took a cup offered by Peter. Stiles sniffed, then he too came over and took a cup. Derek glanced at him, but Stiles was wearing a carefully arranged mask over his face. 

“I’m going to call and ask about Tony,” Peter said, glanced between them and left. Derek knew his uncle was going to call Talia, but it would probably refer more to what Peter had heard, rather than the wellbeing of his father. 

“Derek, I’m sorry,” Stiles said silently. Derek licked his lips and faced him. 

“I know,” he said. “And - I don’t know what you did to dad, but the moment you released him he started to smell better, like he was healing, so… thank you.” 

“I don’t really know what I did,” Stiles said and sipped coffee. He grimaced and placed the mug down. “I just… did. 

“There was something,” Stiles said and gestured to his heart, then outwards into the air. “Like a pull, and I needed to…” 

He grew silent and frowned out into space. Derek tilted his head. 

“Needed to, what?” he asked. Stiles shook his head slowly. 

“To feed.” he murmured, then shot Derek a worried look. Derek kept his face as neutral as he could. 

“Feed the nogitsune?” he asked. Stiles nodded and looked away. 

“Yeah.” he said. “But it felt different. I’ve fed it before - when I’m summoned. It takes all the pain and anguish and darkness a person has, and it doesn’t want to stop until the other person is dead.

“With your dad, I - we wanted what he had inside him, but… we didn’t want to kill him. We just wanted to eat what hurt him.” Stiles grew silent. Derek watched him seriously and drank some more coffee. Stiles glanced over to him. “So, do I get a tour around on the first spontaneous vacation I’ve had in eight years, or..?” 

Derek scoffed, but stood and gestured for Stiles to follow him. 

* * *

Derek didn’t quite know what he expected, but Stiles took in everything of the house with wide eyes. He treated it like it was the biggest adventure in the world, and the oddest things seemed to set him into excited glee. 

Like the piano in the library, and the fact that Derek knew how to play it. Stiles practically refused to leave before Derek had played him five different songs. Or the knitted blanket Derek’s old nanna had made when Derek was a kid that still rested on the sofa. Stiles looked like he seriously considered stealing it. 

“What’s it made of?” Stiles asked, awestruck as he stroked the blanket. Derek just shook his head. 

“I don’t know, wool?” Derek said. Stiles scoffed. 

“Derek, this is obviously not wool. It’s softer than angel-balls.” 

Derek choked and manhandled Stiles away from the heirloom. Stiles stopped to look at every picture on the wall, and stood especially still if they contained Derek. 

“How many people live here?” Stiles asked eventually. He peered down a corridor full of bedrooms. Derek shrugged. 

“As many that wants to.” he said. The pack was huge, but there was always a place for them in the Hale House if they needed it. At any given time Derek’s aunts, uncles or cousins could arrive and they’d get a bed. There were probably at least thirty people living there at any given time, and the house was huge to reflect that. 

“So where’s your childhood bedroom?” Stiles said and grinned mischievously, and Derek rolled his eyes but walked Stiles up the stairs to his old room. 

It wasn’t a kids room anymore. Derek had slowly gotten rid of stuff and adultified it, but there were still a few things even he hadn’t been able to get rid off, like a stuffed dog in his bookcase. Stiles exclaimed and ran over to pick it up. 

“Who’s this?” he asked and hugged it to him. Derek rolled his eyes but struggled not to smile. 

“Fluffy.” Stiles gasped and gave Derek huge eyes. Derek shrugged and Stiles carefully placed the dog down again. 

“Fluffy,” he murmured and shook his head. Derek smiled and watched him inspect everything else with equal attention to detail. 

“I love your house, Derek,” Stiles said eventually with a hint of longing in his voice. He stopped by the window and looked out over the backyard. “It’s so… warm.” 

Derek knew he wasn’t talking about any actual warmth, but rather the magic that surrounded the house. Derek had always felt safe here. The land was so infused with generations of his blood that it felt like the land was singing to him. This was his home, his land, his territory. 

“Yeah,” Derek said softly, watching Stiles’ back. The sun was shining in through the window, and Stiles had wrapped his arms around himself as he looked out towards the woods. He was still in his batman pyjamas, even now. Derek couldn’t say much, he was in his sweatpants and the black tee he had slept in. Which reminded him. “I should - you can borrow some old clothes.” 

Derek walked over to the dresser and pulled forth something that he had left there, three years ago. It might be too big for Stiles, but at least it was clothes. He turned back and Stiles had twisted to face him. The light bounced against his bed hair, causing it to shine in a bunch of different colours, from black to a golden brownish red. Stiles watched him with a serious expression on his face. Derek swallowed. Stiles was beautiful. 

He hadn’t allowed himself to think it before, but in the deepest part of his natural territory he could finally admit to himself that Stiles  _ was _ beautiful. He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat. 

“This might fit you.” he said and held out the clothes. Stiles stepped over and took them. Derek smiled at him and gestured to the door, trying to communicate that he’d give Stiles the privacy to change. Derek started to move, but then Stiles placed a hand over Derek’s chest, just like he had last night. The touch stopped him in his tracks, and he glanced down at Stiles’ fingers. 

“Derek,” Stiles said silently. Derek raised his eyes and looked at his face. Stiles still wore that serious expression. Derek tilted his head slowly. 

“Yeah?” 

Stiles looked over his face and gingerly tossed the clothes onto the bed before he placed his other hand next to the first on Derek’s chest. They stood like that for what felt like a long time, just staring at each other. 

Derek heard his own heart beat rapidly in his head. Stiles’ fingers moved softly over his chest and it made Derek feel a little weak at the knees - which wasn’t a usual feeling for him. Then Stiles looked him in the eye and crossed the distance. Stiles’ lips pressed against his, soft and gentle, more like a question than anything else. 

And Derek knew he should push him away. This was definitely not what he was supposed to do. But when Derek took slightly too long to really respond, Stiles moved to pull away, and Derek felt a pang of  _ no _ just push through him and he grabbed Stiles face and kissed him deeply. 

Stiles mewled against his lips and Derek pressed him close. Stiles raked his hands over his chest carefully like he was mapping him, and Derek wrapped his arms around him. 

The kiss grew. Derek pulled his hands over Stiles back, down to his ass. Stiles moaned again and Derek slipped his tongue into his mouth. Stiles took a step back and pulled Derek with him until they hit the bed, and then Stiles broke away enough to climb on top of it. Derek felt his eyes travel over him like a spark of electricity and it made Derek shiver a little. 

“Shirt off,” Stiles said and Derek obeyed immediately. He dropped the shirt to the floor and Stiles exhaled shakily. 

“Oh, fuck.” he murmured and Derek grinned and met his gaze when it finally returned to Derek’s face. It took a long time. 

“You too,” Derek ordered. Stiles’ hands shot out and he tore the batman shirt off of him. Derek climbed on top of the bed and pushed him into the mattress the moment the shirt was off. Stiles swallowed and Derek attached his lips to his neck and kissed down his throat. Stiles’s hands snuck around to his back and clung onto him. 

Derek kissed down over his chest, nibbling against the warm skin. Now, a smarter man wouldn’t place hickeys on a man who swam in front of a team of guards twice a day, but Derek had always been a biter; even before that became sexual for him, so he couldn’t help himself, and when Stiles practically bounced off the bed with a loud moan after the first bite Derek took it as a green light to continue. 

He worked his way down to Stiles’ hip, and when Stiles lifted his hips off the bed Derek pulled off his trousers. Apparently Stiles didn’t wear underwear to bed. Derek pulled away to look at him; skinnier than he should he. Bones jutting out against pale flesh. Speckles of moles all over his skin and bruises blossoming out where Derek kissed him. Dick hardening under his gaze. Stiles was really fucking beautiful, and as Derek watched him he felt something blossom up in his chest - this overwhelming urge to protect him, like Stiles was pack and Derek would die to help him. 

Derek swallowed and carefully reached out, taking Stiles dick in hand. Stiles moaned and clutched the bedsheets so Derek gave it a few experimental tugs. 

“Is this okay?” he asked. Stiles licked his lips and nodded. 

“Fuck yes, it’s okay,” he mumbled, then seemed to realise he should make some investigations of his own. His brown eyes settled on Derek and he crooked his head. “Why, are you okay?” 

Derek felt a spike of anxiety rise from Stiles, so he started jerking his hand over Stiles’ shaft, effectively shutting him up. 

“I’m fine,” Derek said, amused. Stiles did that soft mewl in the back of his throat again and squirmed on the bed. 

“Okay, good,” he said. “We’re all good, people are good, the good is good -” 

Derek ignored him, leaned down and took as much as he could of Stiles into his mouth. Stiles gasped and fisted the sheets, and Derek had to pin him down to keep him from squirming. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Stiles mumbled. Derek hummed and hollowed his cheeks, then started bobbing his head up and down. Stiles continued to moan under him, and Derek could feel him getting closer to orgasm when Stiles grabbed a hold of his hair, not to force him to do something, but rather to get his attention. Derek glanced up and Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay, please fuck me.” 

Derek released Stiles’ dick with a loud pop and gave him an amused look. 

“Isn’t this fucking?” he asked. Stiles whimpered and glared at him, but his cheeks were so flushed that it kind of defeated the point. It sure was lovely, that flush, though. 

“Oh, you  _ know _ what I mean,” Stiles said, sounding much more confident than he looked. He pointed at Derek and narrowed his eyes. “Off with the pants, you fuck me, now.” 

“We don’t have any lube.” said Derek calmly. Stiles blinked like he didn’t even get why that was a problem. Derek raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. “You know, to make  _ fucking _ easier?” 

“Why don’t you have lube in this place?” Stiles snapped. Derek scoffed. 

“In my childhood bedroom?” he asked patiently. Stiles narrowed his eyes again and seemed to consider it. 

“Okay, go ask hot coffee-guy, he looked like a man who owns lube.” 

Derek made a face. “I’m not going to ask my uncle if he has lube.” 

“Well, then I don’t know, Derek, use soap or something!” Stiles snapped. They stared at each other, then Derek couldn’t stop the smile from forming over his face, and then he was laughing, and when he did Stiles started laughing too. 

“Soap?” Derek asked once he calmed down enough to speak. 

“Handsoap is lube-y,” Stiles defended. Derek nodded sagely. Stiles sat up, reached out and pulled him into a kiss. Stiles grabbed his hair just tight enough to hurt in the right way, and kissed him deeply. Derek moaned, and Stiles pulled away enough so their lips touched as he spoke. “Seriously, ask hot coffee-guy, or use your wolfie-senses to sniff out whatever lube that exists in this house, or get freaking olive-oil from the kitchen, I don’t care, but this is happening.” 

Derek felt his dick jump in his pants and he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to Stiles lips, looking all kiss-swollen. 

“I - okay,” Derek said. Stiles pulled away triumphically and smirked. 

“Excellent, you go, I start prepping.” And then he put his own sinful fucking fingers in his mouth and sucked them, and Derek felt his own mouth go dry. Stiles raised an eyebrow challengingly and popped his fingers out. “Go.” 

Derek looked over his naked chest, down to the hard cock and swallowed. 

“You’re gonna prep yourself?” he asked, and it did not sound as innocent as he had hoped it would. It sounded needy and desperate, even to his own ears. Stiles' face broke out into that smirk again and he nodded. 

“Yeah, and if you hurry, you get to watch when you get back.” He smiled. Derek looked at the fingers as they slipped back into Stiles mouth. 

“Fuck,” Derek muttered, bounced up from the bed and grabbed his shirt. Then he realised a flaw in this plan, and turned back to Stiles. “I can’t go more than ten meters away from you.” 

Stiles stopped sucking his fingers, then made a face. The fingers popped out and Stiles looked to the ceiling. 

“Curse me and my outstanding abilities,” he muttered, jumped up from bed and quickly shoved himself back into his Batman pyjamas. Derek watched, then grabbed a hold of his waist and pulled him close. He attached his lips to Stiles’ neck and nibbled lightly. 

“Do I still get to watch you prep yourself after we find lube?” he asked. Stiles' heart fluttered against his ribcage and Stiles sighed dramatically. 

“Wolfie, find the fucking lube and I’ll let you watch whatever you fucking want, how about that?” Derek grinned and released him. Stiles tugged the Batman shirt over his head and a hickey definitely showed on his shoulder as it slipped into place. 

Derek listened for a second before they stepped back out in the hallway, then he and Stiles made their way down. 

“I think there might be vaseline in the downstairs bathroom,” Derek said thoughtfully. His aunt Rosa got really dry hands and vaseline was the only thing that really worked for her. 

Was it wrong to take his aunt’s vaseline? Did Derek care? The answer, as it turned out, was absolutely not. They found the vaseline easily enough, and Stiles broke out in a wide smile as Derek held it up and yep, Derek definitely didn’t care about his aunt Rosa’s dry hands. 

The last way back to Derek’s room happened in a blur that involved lots of kissing; and Derek almost breaking a vase standing on one of the bookcases Derek pressed Stiles against to thoroughly ravish. 

When they got inside Derek’s room Stiles broke contact long enough to jerk Derek and his own shirt off them, then they kissed again. Stiles bit Derek’s lower lip and Derek forced Stiles trousers off from his hips and pushed him back into bed when they were close enough. 

Stiles laughed and heaved himself up better, then his eyes landed on Derek’s trousers. The air felt tense between them.

“Take them off,” Stiles said, and it wasn’t a question anymore. It was a demand, and Derek found himself almost desperate to obey it. He pushed down his trousers and underwear at the same time and Stiles actually moaned at the sight of him. 

It made Derek feel brave, so casually he grabbed himself and gave a few good pumps. Stiles kept his eyes on Derek’s dick, then he reached out and grabbed the vaseline jar from Derek’s other hand. 

“You fucking tease,” Stiles muttered and cast a glance Derek’s dick again, then he unscrewed the lid. Derek smiled and sat down on the bed. Stiles gave him a look that Derek couldn’t quite read - affection, annoyance, desire was just some of the emotions he saw, and Stiles flopped back onto the bed, twisted to the lie on his side, and brought a vaselined hand to his ass. 

Derek felt his mouth water and watched as Stiles probed his hole. Then he pushed a finger through and both Stiles and Derek gasped.

Derek watched as Stiles rocked his hips back a little, taking more of his own finger. Stiles fucked himself open with the finesse of a man who had done it before, and that thought set Derek’s skin on fire. His stomach was a growling pool of desire and he was torn between watching Stiles fuck himself onto his hand forever, or throw himself over him and fuck until Stiles was a whimpering mess against him. 

Actually fucking eventually won. Stiles had just definitely managed to take all five fingers into him when Derek had enough. He grabbed the vaseline jar, scooped out a copious amount and rubbed his dick. Stiles looked at him then and pouted. 

“I wanted to do that,” he said.

“Uh huh, in a year or what?” Derek shot back and shook his head. “Now who’s the fucking tease?” 

Stiles laughed and slipped his fingers out of his ass. Derek watched him darkly, unable to keep the desire out of his gaze anymore. 

“How should we..?” Derek asked.

“Doggy?” Stiles asked. Derek regretfully tore his eyes away from Stiles ass to give him a look. 

“Is this a dog-joke again?” he asked suspiciously. Stiles laughed again, but then actually shook his head. 

“I like doggy,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly soft. Derek watched him and his dick twitched in excitement. 

“Yeah, okay,” Derek said. Stiles rolled around and pushed up on his hands and knees, so Derek took the opportunity to caress his ass-cheeks and down the thigh. Stiles moaned softly and Derek cupped him and squeezed. 

“This is okay, then?” he asked as he had aligned himself behind him. He really wanted to reach out, just grab Stiles’ hips and press into him, but Derek Hale was a gentleman, damn it. Even if Stiles Stilinski was not, and only snorted at his concern and pushed his hips back against him. 

Derek growled, took hold of his hips then and entered him on Derek’s fucking terms. Stiles moaned and immediately hung his head, and Derek felt amazing. Stiles was so fucking warm and tight, and the sounds that slipped out of Stiles mouth when Derek experimentally gave a few jerks made something inside of him go crazy. 

Derek quickly established a pace, going softly at first, and then harder as Stiles started pushing against him and meeting his thrusts. Stiles was shivering underneath him, so when he dropped from hands to elbows and placed his head against the mattress Derek was prepared for it. He kept pounding against him. 

Somewhere along the line, Stiles gave up trying to be quiet and he moaned loudly against every thrust. Everyone in the house was sure to hear them. Derek found he didn’t care. He liked the sounds Stiles made. He wanted to hear them more, and louder. He wanted Stiles to scream his name and he wanted more skin against him. 

“Lie down completely,” Derek ordered and pulled away enough for Stiles to be able to rest out his legs. Stiles dropped down immediately and Derek latched onto his back and kissed his shoulder. “Legs together.” 

Derek pushed into him again, practically putting all his weight dead over him. Stiles moaned loudly and Derek started biting hickeys down his throat again. 

“Oh fuck,” Stiles chanted, clutching the bedsheets, and then his whole body tensed up and he came. Stiles clamped down on Derek hard, and Derek thrusted into him, riding through Stiles orgasm to the last drop until Derek couldn’t hold it anymore and came inside of him. 

Derek dropped onto Stiles back, but Stiles didn’t seem to mind the weight. He was lying with his face hidden in the mattress, gasping for air. Derek slowly rolled off of him and Stiles grunted like he was thoroughly displeased with Derek leaving. Derek took a hold of his shoulder and tugged him into a hug, and Stiles went willingly into a little spoon position. 

They laid together, catching their breath in silence. Derek kept looking over the bitemarks he had left on Stiles skin, feeling a little self conscious now when he saw how easily Stiles bruised. 

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbled silently. Derek dragged his eyes from a purple hickey to try and see his face, but all he saw was Stiles' ear. 

“Thank you,” Derek said. Stiles shifted around to face him and placed a hand on his chest again. His cheeks were flushed red, but he looked serious again. Derek didn’t like it. He wanted Stiles to smile instead. 

“I won’t let them court-marshal you, Derek,” Stiles said seriously. Derek frowned and placed his hand over Stiles’. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. Stiles shook his head. 

“No it’s not,” Stiles said. “I fucked up, but I’ll fix it, alright? I won’t let them - I can’t lose y-” 

He stopped and Derek saw tears start to swell in his eyes. Ah, fuck. Derek leaned over and kissed his lips, then wiped the tears that started to fall. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. Stiles nodded and wriggled his fingers over Derek’s naked chest. 

“Yeah.” Stiles said. “I’ll make it okay.” 


	8. Wards

After Stiles had stopped crying - which granted, wasn’t that long or that much, but still more than Derek would have liked - and Stiles returned from the bathroom Derek watched him toss another longing look outdoors as he got dressed. Derek pulled on his own pants and wasn’t surprised when Stiles turned to face him. 

“Can we go out?” he asked and smiled excitedly. Like he could feel Derek’s hesitation he pouted before Derek even replied. “Please? I can’t remember when I just hung around outside last.” 

So obviously Derek had no choice but to acquiesce. And the entire preserve was warded, so stepping out in the backyard wouldn’t be that dangerous for them. Derek nodded and pulled on a shirt from his dresser. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Plaid?” he asked, sounding far too cheerfully and grinned. “I didn’t know your wardrobe knew colour, Derek.” 

“Haha,” said Derek drily. Stiles grinned and set off down the stairs. Derek followed at a slower pace, then once they were on the first floor he guided Stiles through the house to the back garden. 

Stiles took a deep breath out in the air and walked over to the porch fence, where he leaned his elbows and stared out into the woods. Derek decided to give him some space, so when Peter arrived it was actually welcome. 

“Talia says Tony’s going to make a full recovery,” Peter said and glanced at Stiles' direction. A tension Derek didn’t even realise he had been holding released and he took a sigh of relief. “The doctors said it was a miracle.” 

The vision of Stiles, gripping his father’s chin while Derek was unable to speak or move flashed before him. Miracle was one word for it. 

“That’s great,” Derek said. Peter glanced his way and lowered his voice. 

“Now, how did your friend perform it?” 

Derek should have known Peter would have found out. He sighed and glanced at Stiles. “He’s magic.” 

“So are the healers,” Peter said and gave him a sharp look. “And they could barely stabilize him.” 

“He’s… special,” Derek said and shrugged. Derek had now seen Stiles tear people apart, and seen him heal a man from a bad heart attack. Special didn’t even begin to cover Stiles or his abilities. Peter made a hum in the back of his throat. 

“Yes, I heard how special he is.” Derek glared at his uncle. Peter just smirked and shrugged. “What, if you wanted it a secret, maybe you shouldn’t have done it in a werewolf house.” 

“Shut up,” Derek mumbled. He looked to Stiles again who was absentmindedly stroking his hand over the banister. 

Derek was of two minds with what they had done. On one hand, he knew he shouldn’t have done it. Stiles was his client and it certainly hadn’t been in the job description to have sex with him. He also knew from spending time with Stiles just how isolated Stiles actually was and he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he was taking advantage of an already exposed state. On the other hand, now when he had done it he couldn’t imagine being sorry for it, nor could he imagine that he’d never do it again. Completely unexpectedly and against Derek’s better judgement Stiles had nuzzled under his skin and bones and Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to give that up now. 

The emotion was so strong that Derek probably should be concerned about it. Had anyone else explained the way Derek felt and asked for his advice he would have said to cool it. No way would he have given his blessing. It was too soon to feel things like that, especially that strongly. But with Stiles it just felt natural. And that was definitely a problem because Derek was pretty sure he was going to get fired once Argent arrived with back-up. 

Derek saw Stiles start rubbing over a particular spot on the railing and how his head moved to look at it. 

“Derek?” Stiles called hesitantly and glanced over his shoulder at Derek and Peter. “What’s this?” 

Something in his tone sobered Derek up and he walked over to peer down at what Stiles kept rubbing. It looked like some kind of carving into the wood, but it was not a ward or symbol Derek recognised. It also looked fairly new, but placed in such a way that it wasn’t easily noticeable at a glance. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured and looked to Peter who also stepped forth. Peter frowned and shook his head at the silent question between them. 

Stiles pushed Derek’s hand away from it and held his hand over the mark. For a moment nothing happened, but then Derek felt magic creep up on him. It wasn’t like the force he recognized as Stiles. Instead it felt slow and sluggish, like it was struggling against being called forth. 

His suspicion was confirmed when Stiles started to tremble lightly. Stiles bared his teeth, an intense look of concentration on his face. Beads of sweat formed at his brow. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked. Stiles started with a groan, which quickly grew into a drawn out scream like he was pushing an extremely heavy weight and then the black tendrils Derek had seen in Argents office blossomed forth around Stiles. Darkness grew, but from the carving on the wood a glow started to appear. It suddenly became extremely hot and light was pulsing out from the carving. Derek heard the sound of flames roaring from it. 

“Let. Me. In.” Stiles hissed, and the fire burnt off the banister, became a floating, glowing orb. Stiles grabbed it and his whole body shuddered. It looked like he was struggling to keep hold of it, or like it burned him. Then Stiles quickly shoved his fist into his mouth where he swallowed the orb. 

Stiles began to dry-heave like he was going to puke, but he kept swallowing several times, and then he slumped forth and steadied himself on the banister. 

“What the hell was that?” Peter asked. 

“You need to reinforce your wards,” Stiles gasped. It sounded like he had gargled knives. “All of them. This house is under attack.” 

Derek looked around like he’d see something, but all he saw was the familiarity of his childhood backyard. And yet he trusted Stiles. 

“Call the alpha,” Derek snapped to Peter and raised his hands. He could make some sigils, but he wasn’t the best at them. Protection magic wasn’t his strongest suit, and his mother and Laura would be better, but he could do what he could. 

Peter rushed off immediately to find a phone. Derek made the sigil of the triskelion, the alpha, beta and omega, and the symbol of the moon. Since they were on Hale land he felt the magic flow easier like the land was helping him, but he also felt something else; the heat from whatever Stiles had burned away, still roaring its flames against him. They really were under attack. 

The way the wires had broken, just waiting to start a fire. The fact that the battery was out in the smoke alarm. His father’s heart attack. All of that clicked into place as Derek signed. Of course the doctors and healers couldn’t help his father, he had been under a curse. They were trying to treat a disease, and what kept him sick was a continuous curse weaving through his veins. 

Derek had even felt it, he realized, when he touched his dad. It had been masked under pain and medicine, but there had definitely been something there. 

“Derek…” Stiles said slowly. Derek opened an eye to glance at him, not breaking the spells. Stiles was staring off into the woods with an intense face. Derek glanced that way, but didn’t see anything. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You don’t hear that?” Stiles asked. Derek listened, but he couldn’t hear anything other than the phantom roar of flames. 

“What is it?” Derek asked. Stiles shook his head slowly and started walking. Derek watched as he went down the porch steps and started walking towards the woods. “Stiles, what are you doing?” 

The magic between them tugged Derek forth and forced him to stop signing. Stiles stepped past the trees and Derek hurried after him, but no matter what he did he couldn’t catch up with him. 

“Stiles!” he hissed. Stiles had just said the house was under magical attack, and now he was wandering off into the woods and bringing Derek with him. “We have to go back!” 

Stiles shook his head, but Derek couldn’t see what expression he had on his face. “It’s calling us.” 

That didn’t sound good to Derek. He didn’t know what _it_ was, but he definitely didn’t want to find out what could be calling Stiles in the middle of the forest as his home was under attack. He said so, but Stiles didn’t appear to hear him at all. 

It was still sunny outside, but in the woods the light seemed denser somehow. Not like Derek remembered it, which was odd because Derek knew these woods like the palm of his hand. There were no groves of thick trees to block the sun out like this around the house. And yet there they were, walking further and further into the darkness. 

Derek considered what would happen if he just stopped, turned to run the other way. Would Stiles be forced to tag him the way Derek’s feet automatically tagged Stiles, or was the magic between them a one-way street? It hadn’t really come up before, and Derek realized that there were a lot of things he had neglected to ask or think about. 

But before Derek had the chance to test it, Stiles stepped past a line of trees and entered a clearing. He stopped, finally allowing Derek to catch up with him. Derek followed his gaze to the middle of the clearing and onto a huge tree stump. The tree must have been massive. The stump was wide enough to practically be a double bed, and the roots still dug deep and gnarly into the earth. For some reason Derek was reminded of a blood altar.

“What is this place?” he asked. He could swear he’d never seen this place in the woods before. It wasn’t a place you forgot, and they had basically been walking straight from the house the entire time. 

“We’ve been here before,” Stiles mumbled, his eyes glued onto the tree stump. “But the tree was standing then.” 

Derek took a hesitant step closer to it. He wasn’t an expert, but it didn’t look like this tree had been cut recently. The stump looked old. Thick moss grew on top of it. 

“Stiles, I don’t think this tree has been alive for the last half a century, at least.” 

Stiles laughed, quickly and breathlessly and looked around the grove. 

“Oh, but it is alive.” he said. Derek looked back at him and saw him stretch his neck and breathe deeply, like he was experiencing something Derek couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Stiles opened his eyes again and glossed past Derek back to the tree. 

“I knew I felt something the moment I crossed the border,” Stiles said and looked at it thoughtfully, then Derek saw a light switch on behind those eyes. “This is what they’re after - why your house is under attack. The wards around your territory must keep this place pretty locked down.” 

Derek looked between Stiles and the tree stump. “You think my house is under attack because someone wants to get to… this?” 

Stiles ignored him in favour of walking over to the tree stump - carefully like he didn’t dare to reach it. When he came close enough he reached out and gingerly placed a hand on the stump. Derek heard him inhale sharply and his body went rigid. 

“Stiles!” Derek called and rushed to pull him away. The moment his hand touched Stiles’ shoulder he was somewhere else, and Stiles was gone. 

* * *

It should be impossible. Derek could physically not leave Stiles’ side. And he hadn’t felt that awful lurch of Stiles’ teleportation, but gone was the tree stump and the woods, and instead Derek was in what looked to be a high school corridor. Lockers and classrooms lined the walls, and it was dark both inside and out. Derek looked around nervously. 

“Stiles?” he called out. His voice echoed down the empty corridor. 

He started walking, driven by a desire to find Stiles as quickly as possible. Nothing looked right as he walked. He knew he had never been in this place before, but at the same time it looked really familiar. The lockers at his high school had been yellow, and these were blue, but on a sign it stood Beacon Hill High School which was where he had gone as a teen. 

He stepped into what looked like a gym hall, filled with balloons on the floor. It was equally dark there, so he had to use his wolf vision to navigate through it. Balloons flew every which way as he walked past them over the floor. 

Derek looked around again, but couldn’t catch sight or scent of Stiles, or anyone for that matter. He had just reached the middle of the gym when a door opened at the opposite wall. Light pooled in and blinded him for a second, but he could see the silhouette of a person. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and peered at the shape. “Stiles?” 

Then the shape growled and ran towards him, and it was definitely not Stiles. He barely had time to parr the blow, and then he recognized who it was. 

“ _Kali_?” he asked. The Alpha’s eyes glowed red and Kali growled and slashed after his chest. Derek ducked away, but Kali pounced towards him and knocked him through the air. Balloons flew as he landed with a harsh grunt.

Derek gasped for air and Kali ran, her claws out for his throat. 

Now granted, Derek had never gotten along with Decalion’s right hand woman, but as far as he was aware they were old coworkers - and definitely not on level where Kali would want him dead - but the growl she released told him that this was dead serious. He rolled away from her and the floor screeched as it caught the wrath of her claws. 

“What’s going on?” Derek hissed, spun around and kicked her off her feet. Kali was up almost before she fell however, and she did another lunge for him. This time she managed to clock him in the head and the whole world started spinning with the blow. 

Derek scampered away on his knees. Kali growled behind him. He hurried towards bleachers, hoping to find some kind of weapon against her. In hand to hand combat, Derek knew he was screwed against Kali. 

The bleachers had seats made of metal scaffolding, so the moment Derek reached them he roared and tore off a piece of metal, then he twisted around and slammed the metal bar into Kali’s face. 

The Alpha roared but pulled back, and Derek tossed himself after her, swinging the pipe wildly around him. Kali blocked with an arm, but Derek got a good hit on it. They both heard bones break. For a second he felt relief rush through him, but then Kali’s uninjured arm shot forth and grabbed the pipe from him. 

Before he had the chance to react she had slammed it with such force against his head that he tumbled down to the floor. He barely managed to catch himself with his hands. 

Kali growled on top of him. He tried to twist his head to look at her, but his body was uncooperative and wouldn’t move. 

He needed to find Stiles. 

Kali circled him and then Derek felt excruciating pain pierce through his chest. He howled and looked down. Blood was soaking his shirt, and the metal pipe was shoved all the way through him, from the back to the front. 

Derek gasped and Kali’s bare feet appeared in front of his vision. Her long claws made something churn uncomfortably in the part of his chest that wasn’t pierced. Derek inhaled shakily and tried to raise his head defiantly. If he was going to die he’d die with his teeth bared in a snarl. 

“This is what brought down Julia?” Kali scoffed, her face clouded with scorn, like what she saw was pathetic to her. Derek didn’t know who Julia was, but he didn’t care. 

“Come closer, still got teeth that can take down one more,” Derek hissed. Kali raised her hand, ready to claw his throat out, but then the door burst open again and a massive roar burst forth. The balloons actually moved like a wind had caught them. Kali stumbled back from him, glanced towards the door, and ran the other way. 

Derek blinked, but his vision was turning sluggish. The new arrival ran over to him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and at the touch Derek could feel pain seep away from him. He sagged, then the newcomer grabbed hold of the metal pipe. 

“Sorry about this,” he said and jerked the pipe out. Derek screamed and collapsed, but he could already feel the wound close. The newcomer helped him up to his feet, taking a massive load of Derek’s own weight. Derek blinked up at the kid’s face. Long, shaggy hair like what was popular with teens around the year 2010; dark brown puppy eyes; an uneven jaw; a wide, innocent and excited smile that spread over his face. The newcomer looked awestruck and exhaled excitedly. “You’re Derek!” 

Derek furrowed his eyebrows and looked the kid over again. He had never seen this kid in his life. The kid smiled brightly. 

“I’m Scott!” he said. Derek blinked. 

“McCall?” he asked hesitantly. Scott McCall nodded excitedly and then looked around and frowned. 

“We need to find Stiles.” 

That got Derek back on track. He needed to get to Stiles. He took a deep breath and took some of his own weight back from Scott. 

“Where are we?” he asked. 

“High School.” Scott shuddered like he preferred not to think about it. The kid slung Derek’s arm over his shoulder and started guiding Derek towards the door with the light. Derek was actually thankful for the assistance. He tried to take a sniff, hoping to catch Stiles’ scent, but his nose came up blank. 

They burst out into another corridor, this one filled with light. Scott glanced up and down quickly and started pulling Derek along. “We need to hurry, I don’t know how long they can hold her off.” 

“Hold off who?” Derek asked confused. 

“I don’t know her name, dude,” Scott said apologetically. “But she looks like my english teacher.” 

Great. Derek definitely needed more weirdness right now. Scott helped him down the corridor, then pushed a new door open. The room they burst into then looked like some kind of warehouse. It was stark white with fluorescent lights hanging in the high ceiling. There was also literally nothing inside, except in the middle of the massive space, where the large tree stump had dug its roots into the concrete.

Derek stumbled to a halt and stared. Kali must have hit him harder in the head than he thought, because on one side of the stump stood Stiles, with another, identical Stiles standing right next to him, and on the other side of the stump stood Jennifer Blake. Neither the Stileses or Jennifer seemed to notice Derek and Scott. 

“Get away, fox,” Jennifer snapped. She kept flickering between the beautiful woman Derek knew and the massacred monster that she really was. From Jennifer Derek could feel flames leap out, and from the Stileses there was this overwhelming coldness - a feeling of void, through and through. “This doesn’t concern you!” 

“No, tearing a hole in the fabric of reality at a telluric convergence center is a very private affair,” Stiles - one of them - shouted back. 

“The power of the Nemeton is too wild for a human to handle,” said the other Stiles. “You will fail.” 

“And why should you care?” Jennifer hissed. “In the coming storm the world will fall to chaos. You will have all you can eat.” 

Derek saw one of the Stileses hiss like a sweet flavour touched his tongue. The other Stiles clenched his fists. 

“This is a sacred place,” he snapped and glared at Jennifer, “and its sacred guardians are not dead yet.” 

“You mean the Hales?” Jennifer laughed cruelly. “They will be soon. Their wards are already crumbling. It was even a Hale that brought me here.” 

“Just because you wormed your last bit of strength into a Hale’s connection to the Nemeton does not mean you’ve won,” the less emotional Stiles said. “It means you’re a parasite.” 

“What are they talking about?” Derek hissed and looked to Scott. Scott shook his head and heaved Derek up better on his shoulder. 

“We need to get over there,” said Scott determinedly. 

Scott and Derek started running towards them, Scott practically pulling Derek along. Yet they never came closer. They kept at the same distance, and Jennifer and the Stileses remained unaware of them. 

“You’re one to talk, _fox_ ,” Jennifer shouted at them. “You’re the one clinging onto nothing but an empty husk, feeding off whatever scraps you can find.” 

“You think you know what we are, Darach?” a Stiles said dangerously. It reminded Derek of when Stiles had broken his wrist, and he felt cold tendrils reach the space that he and Scott physically couldn’t cross. “We are chaos come again. 

“This is my game,” Stiles growled and started stalking towards Jennifer Blake. “You think you can beat me at _my game_?”

The other Stiles stayed behind, but his eyes were trailed on the magic that burst forth. From Jennifer a column of fire erupted, and from the attacking Stiles a darkness spread. The different kinds of magic slammed together with a deafening roar and it was like an explosion happened. Derek and Scott were forced backwards, both stumbling to their knees. 

For a moment it was hard to see what was going on, but then it looked like the fire had to retreat away from the stump. Derek saw the darkness push it back, but the battle continued as viciously as ever. But now he could see other Stiles, the one who stayed behind and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that that was the real Stiles, and the one who was battling Jennifer was the nogitsune. 

“We need to get to him,” Derek shouted at Scott. Scott pushed himself up and looked away from the battle at Stiles. Scott’s eyes glowed golden. Werewolf. 

“How? We can’t reach him.” Derek looked back at Stiles and frowned. He thought quickly; and for some reason his mind went back to the night before when Derek had asked if Stiles felt controlled by the nogitsune when he used his magic. Stiles had shook his head with such seriousness. 

_“It is me,”_ he had said. 

“Maybe we don’t have to reach him,” Derek said. “Maybe we just need him to notice us.” 

“How do we do that then?” Scott asked and glanced over at Derek who flashed his own, blue eyes at him. 

“We signal that the pack is near,” he said. A light popped up behind Scott’s eyes. 

They turned back towards Stiles in unison and together they howled as loudly as they could. Stiles’ eyes remained steadily at the fight, but as Derek started to think it wouldn’t work he could almost see a wrinkle appear over Stiles’ face. Derek felt his heart jolt as Stiles turned his head and glanced their way. 

“Derek?” Stiles murmured, and for some reason Derek could hear him as clearly as he stood directly next to him. “Scott?” 

Scott made an excited yowl, like a young pup. Derek felt his own face break out in an unstoppable grin. 

Stiles looked between them and the magic fight. Jennifer was screaming, and the nogitsune was howling like a demon from hell. Then Derek saw as Stiles eyes travelled to the tree stump and locked on. 

Instead of running towards them, Stiles ran towards the tree. Derek felt his grin fall. 

“What’s he doing?” Scott asked and looked at Derek. Derek could only shake his head. He watched as Stiles leaped up on the tree stump and turned to face them. 

“I promised I would fix this,” Stiles whispered and locked eyes on Derek. His voice was echoing in Derek’s head. Stiles smiled. “I won’t let them hurt you. I can’t lose you.” 

Derek started running. Time seemed to slow down. A pressure was building up, like a black hole sucking everything in. Derek could see Stiles’ magic flair out in black tendrils, nine black tails starting to weave around him. 

“Stiles, no!” Derek screamed. Stiles raised a hand and in it Derek could see one of the black onyx daggers glint. Stiles jabbed it down, embedded the blade deep into his stomach and screamed.

The world exploded around them and everything became dark. 

* * *

There was a ringing in Derek’s head. He could barely breathe, and the sound was just getting louder and louder. Groggily he opened one eye and blinked out in the fading dusk. He was lying on a carpet of pine needles with face first in the ground, and everything hurt. 

Over the ringing he could hear someone howl. It was his mother. Derek jerked his head up and howled back, but his voice barely carried. Or he just couldn’t hear himself, either or. 

Where was Stiles? 

Derek forced himself to get off the ground and look around him. Trees were broken and fallen on the ground, some were on fire. It looked like a bomb had gone off. His eyes searched a ten meter radius around him, but he didn’t see Stiles anywhere. 

Derek howled again, this time desperate for Stiles to hear him, but instead of the man he wanted, suddenly his mother and Laura burst through the growth and rushed over to him. 

“Derek!” his mother shouted and immediately reached for him. Pain immediately flared away from him and into his Alpha, and he slumped against her without really meaning to. 

“Are you alright?” Laura said and hunched down next to him. Derek swallowed the feeling of cotton in his mouth and looked to Talia. 

“What happened?” he asked. Talia shook her head, but she had a wild and ferocious look on her face. 

“The wards broke, all of them.” she said. Anxiety flared up in his stomach. 

“What about the house, is everyone alright?” he asked. He could barely keep his voice steady. Talia squeezed his arm. 

“Everyone’s alright, the fire department is there, as well as Deaton, stabilizing the wards again.” 

“But your employers showed up in the midst of everything,” Laura said urgently. “They’re searching the woods for you.” 

“Have they found Stiles?” Derek asked. Stiles was the important part. Talia shook her head. 

“I don’t think so,” she said. Derek groaned and forced himself up. 

“I need to find him.” 

“Derek, you can barely walk,” Talia said. It was the alpha voice, but Derek didn’t care. He needed to find Stiles. 

“So help me,” he said. Talia and Laura looked at each other, then they slung Derek’s arms over their shoulders and started walking slowly. “How many are searching for him?” 

“At least fifty armed uniforms,” Laura said. 

“Peter and everyone not helping with the wards are also searching,” Talia said. 

“The house was under attack,” Derek said and limped. “Stiles found it. He saved us.” 

“Peter said,” his mother reassured him. Derek grunted and winced, and despite his best intentions his mother and sister sat him down on a fallen tree. “Stay here, Derek,” his mother said and rested a hand on his forehead, “and we can search for Stiles. If we can split up we can cover more ground, but you need to rest.”

Derek frowned but leaned into his alpha’s touch. “We’ll bring him to you when we find him.” 

That made Derek agree, and he nodded. Laura helped him lean back against another tree trunk, and then his mother and sister disappeared back into the forest. 

Derek closed his eyes and focused on breathing. His healing was already kicking in, which was improving him by the second, but his chest hurt like a son of a bitch. Where Kali had speared him. 

Derek pulled the shirt up and carefully peered down at his skin. An angry, red circle where the bar had gone through stood out against his tanned skin. He winced. So at least the injuries he had sustained were real, if nothing else was. He hoped that didn’t mean that when they found Stiles it would be with a hole in his gut. 

Stiles needed him. Derek couldn’t just stay here. He pulled the shirt back down and focused on that, Stiles, potentially hurt and needing him. He pushed himself off the tree and started stumbling through the woods. 

He didn’t know where he was going, but as his head started hurting a little less he started to be able to pay attention to his body, and he could feel the magic tying him through the rings to Stiles tug gently. It wasn’t strong, but it was definitely there, and Derek allowed the pull to take him where he needed to go. 

He felt like he walked for an hour, but it probably wasn’t that long in reality. Eventually he reached a line of trees, some still standing, others fallen down. It was where the tree stump had been. But instead of the stump, there now stood a large and impossibly old, gnarly oak tree in its stead. Derek stared at it for a second, then his eyes travelled down to the roots, where he saw Stiles lying passed out.

Relief flushed through him, but with it also came exhaustion. He fell to the ground and he blacked out again.

It must have been only for a few minutes, but when he came back he felt like he couldn’t move. With massive effort he managed to twist his head so he could see Stiles lying by the roots and he tried to crawl over, but barely managed to move more than a decimetre. 

“There you are,” a man’s voice echoed into the grove. Derek felt relief rush through him. They had been found. 

Then he saw Brunski step over to Stiles. He was alone. They had probably all split up to cover more ground, but something with the way Brunski stopped and stared down at Stiles made the relief Derek had felt very short lived. 

Instead of calling on the radio strapped at his shoulder Brunski turned the radio off and kneeled down next to Stiles unconscious body. Brunski still hadn’t noticed Derek. 

“And all alone, too,” Brunski said and slowly reached out and pushed Stiles’ shirt upwards, exposing pale skin like it was some kind of stip-tease. 

Derek heard Stiles groan in pain, and then; “Derek?” 

“Not quite,” Brunski said darkly. Derek saw Stiles twist his head to look at him. Stiles raised a shaky hand and made some kind of magic sign, but nothing happened. Stiles frowned and pushed his hand against Brunski’s chest weakly. 

“No…” he murmured silently. Derek heard the panic erupt behind the pain in his voice. 

Hell to the no. Derek pushed himself up with a roar. It was like his last, desperate attempt, but something happened when he roared. It felt like a pulse ran through him, coming from the oak tree. Derek felt a surge of energy and rushed Brunski, whose face snapped up when he heard Derek’s growl. 

Derek slashed his throat before Brunski even had time to draw his gun. The man gurgled and stared wide eyed at him for a second, then he dropped, dead. Derek tumbled to his knees and reached out for Stiles, and Stiles gripped onto him so tightly and allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace. 

“Julia Baccari, is she dead?” Stiles murmured against his chest. 

“Who?” Derek asked, confused and feeling his energy drain again. 

“The Darach.” said Stiles. Jennifer’s face flashed before him. 

“You mean Jennifer Blake.” Derek said. Stiles shook his head weakly. 

“That’s not her name.” he murmured, then pointed behind Derek. “Is she dead?” 

With massive effort Derek managed to twist his head where Stiles pointed, and there he indeed saw the body of Jennifer Blake. But she was already dead. She had been dead for - Derek had killed her. 

He released Stiles carefully and crawled on his hands and knees over to the body and felt for a pulse. 

“She’s dead.” Derek said eventually and stared down at the scarred mouth. He looked to Stiles who had pushed himself into sitting position. “What - how is she here?” 

Stiles stared at them cloudily, then looked at the oak tree. 

“This is the Nemeton,” he said slowly. He sounded out of breath, but reached out and touched the roots. “It’s a world tree, a powerful magical beacon. And it belongs to your family. It belongs to this territory. The Darach… she hid a spark of herself in you when you killed her, because she felt the connection you had to the tree. 

“She was trying to weaken the wards so she could fully resurrect herself, and her power.” 

“That… doesn’t make any sense.” said Derek. Stiles laughed. 

“You got possessed,” he said and turned his head back to him. He smiled gently. “It happens to the best of us.” 

“I’ve never seen that tree in my life,” Derek said. 

“That doesn’t mean that it hasn't seen you,” said Stiles and leaned back against the tree. “Now please call for help, I’m gonna throw up.” 

Derek released Jennifer’s - Julia’s cooling body and howled. 

* * *

Everything after that happened in a blur. One minute they were alone, then in the next half of Derek’s pack had heeded his call. He and Stiles got picked up and hurried to a car. His mom was about to jump into it, when she froze and turned back to the tree. 

“Wait,” she said and rushed back. Derek couldn’t keep up with what happened, he was so tired, so instead he took hold of Stiles’ hand and clutched it tightly. Then his mother and Peter returned, and they were carrying a dirty body between them. 

“He’s alive,” said Talia. Both Derek and Stiles lulled their heads to the side to see who she was talking about. There was a silence, then Stiles pushed himself a little straighter and reached out after the body. 

“Scott?” Stiles breathed out, and the body - Scott - groaned a little. Talia and Peter navigated Scott inside the car and Stiles immediately pressed him into his chest. 

“ _Scott_ ,” Stiles cried. Derek reached out and squeezed Stiles shoulder, and Stiles cried the entire way back home. 

Once they arrived back at the house everything became a mess. There was Argent and his staff demanding one thing, and Derek’s pack demanding another. Eventually Deaton had to cast a protective shield around Stiles, Scott and Derek, and Deaton said that under no circumstances could anyone be moved _anywhere_ before they had received both medical and magical attention. 

“He must be secured,” Argent argued. Derek saw his mother step forth, her eyes glowing threateningly. 

“He _is_ secured, under _my_ protection, and since _I_ have the authority within my territory he stays here until he can be discharged.” she snapped. Argent looked like he wanted to argue, but Talia actually bared her teeth at him. “If you don’t like it, come back with a warrant.”


	9. Freedom

“I want to see Scott,” Stiles snapped, forcing himself out of bed. He swayed under his own weight and Derek reached out and steadied him. Stiles gripped him tightly and briefly shot him a grateful look. Deaton was trying to get him back into bed, and Talia stood by the door, but Derek couldn’t decide if she was keeping them inside, or other people out. 

“You shouldn’t be moving yet,” Deaton tried. Stiles gave the emissary a cutting glance. Lesser men would have died under it. 

“I’m seeing him,” Stiles said. 

“Listen Stiles,” Talia said calmly from her perch by the door. Derek immediately snapped to attention, which seemed to drag Stiles away from glaring at Deaton. “Argent is downstairs demanding to see you and find out everything that happened. Now I want to help you, but I need to know what’s going on. 

“I want to see Scott.” Stiles said and pressed his lips together. Talia sighed and her face softened. 

“I understand,” she said gently. “You can, but first I need to know how he’s even alive.” 

“He’s -” Stiles hesitated and tilted his head, looking like he tried to hear something, then he frowned. Stiles stepped back and sat down in bed again. He was white as a sheet. 

“Stiles?” he asked gently. Stiles trembled and stared at his hands. 

“I can’t... feel it, Derek.” he mumbled and looked up at him. The panic in his eyes shot through Derek’s heart and caused him to sit down next to him on bed and wrap his arm over his shoulder. He ignored the weight of his mother’s gaze on him. 

“Can’t feel what?” he asked. “The nogitsune?” 

“Is that the spirit that’s possessing you?” Deaton asked. Stiles took a trembling breath and said nothing. He kept staring at his hands like he didn’t recognize them. 

Derek glanced at his mother who gave him a sharp look. It was the same one she used on him as a child when she was trying to get him to admit to wrong-doings. So Derek took a deep breath and tried to give the most detailed description he could. The only part he omitted, even though he was sure that was a mistake, was the fact that Stiles and he had slept together before they went into the woods. 

Talia and Deaton listened very intently as Derek described how Stiles had found the carving on the railing and realized it was a rune meant to break down the wards of the Hale pack. His mother growled as he explained that was the reason for the worn down electricals as well as his father’s heart attack. 

“The tree called out to Stiles,” Derek said silently. Stiles sighed next to him and slumped against his shoulder in exhaustion. 

“It’s called the Nemeton,” Stiles offered, sounding more miserable than Derek had ever heard him before. “It belongs to this land. It’s bound to all of you, and the Darach Julia Baccari used Derek’s connection to it to try and resurrect herself.” 

Talia looked to Derek and raised an eyebrow. Derek shrugged lightly. “Julia Baccari is Jennifer Blake’s real name.” 

His mother grimaced. Jennifer Blake had not been a high-light of Derek’s life and even though he had tried to keep his family out of it they knew how badly it had affected him. They knew he went to therapy for it and that he received magical rehabilitation after it. 

“Interesting,” Deaton murmured and turned to face Talia. “There exists several magical groves around the world, and they are often beacons for supernatural entities. As such they tend to get guardians - supernatural beings who settle down around it. It is possible that your family have bonded with this tree for centuries without even knowing about it.” 

“The Darach stored a spark of herself inside of Derek so she could gain connection to the Nemeton.” 

“But how can the tree have that kind of power?” Talia asked and shook her head. “Resurrecting the dead? Bringing back both Jennifer - Julia Baccari’s body as well as Scott McCall? And why is Baccari dead and the boy isn’t?” 

“We killed the Darach,” Stiles said and twisted to look at Derek. “Is that why I can’t hear it now? Because it’s… hurt somehow?” 

Derek rubbed his hand over Stiles’ back gently. “I don’t know, maybe it’s resting? I mean, the fight looked pretty intense.” 

“What fight?” Talia snapped. Derek glanced at Stiles who just shrugged tiredly. He turned to his mother and recalled whatever dreamscape they had ended up in; how Kali had almost killed him and how he had run into Scott. He explained the fight between Julia Baccari and the nogitsune, and how Stiles had broken out of the dreamscape by stabbing himself in the gut on top of the tree stump. 

Then he finished the story with how he had found Stiles and a hundreds of years old tree instead of a stump in the middle of the woods; and what Brunski had done before Derek ripped his throat out. 

He looked back to Stiles just in time to see a frown spread over his face. Stiles looked thoughtfully down at his hands again

When he finally finished it felt like an action tv-series instead of something that had actually happened. 

“What about McCall then?” Talia asked. “If Baccari had bound herself to Derek, where does McCall come into all of this?” 

“Actually, I think Stiles’ explanation about the Darach and Derek is sufficient here too.” Deaton spoke up. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and watched Stiles with an interested expression. “Scott McCall died in front of you, right Stiles?” 

Stiles' expression turned darker and he shot the druid a dark look. “Why?”

Deaton looked to Talia for backup. Talia frowned but nodded. 

“I think,” said Deaton carefully, “that there was a spark in Stiles long before the nogitsune possessed him. I think that spark actually made him a prime subject for the fox, because he already had power. When Scott McCall died I think that Stiles’ spark stored a piece of him inside Stiles’ mind, and once Stiles came in contact with the Nemeton it restored McCall the way Baccari wanted it to restore her.” 

“It can do that?” Talia asked. Derek could see how she was thinking of how the tree’s power could be abused and if he knew his mother right she was also thinking of ways she could secure the magic from falling into dangerous hands. Dangerous hands like Argent, who would want to weaponize strength like this. 

“With enough energy channeling through it?” Deaton said slowly with a nod. “Yes, I think so.” 

“There was something else too,” Derek said and faced Stiles again. “You said that Baccari was about to rip a hole in reality. What did that mean?”

Stiles looked up and blinked sluggishly at him. He shook his head and clenched his fists. 

“She was trying to amplify the power,” Stiles said. “Kind of make an overcharge of energy once she was tied to it.” 

“Do I even want to know what could have happened if she had?” Talia asked. Derek watched Stiles frown seriously. 

“It would have been bad.” he said soberly. “Very bad.” 

Talia and Deaton shared a look and Talia nodded. “Right. I should call our lawyers, see what can be done about the guardianship of an ancient, all powerful tree apparently tied to our bloodline.” 

“Can I see Scott now?” Stiles asked silently. Talia sighed. 

“Well, that was the deal.” she said and looked at Derek. “Do not let him overtax himself.” 

Derek nodded and helped Stiles stand up.

“I’m fine,” Stiles mumbled, but he didn’t pull away from Derek’s grasp, and instead actually leaned into him as Derek helped him to the room next door. Deaton and Talia gave them some privacy, Talia leaving to call lawyers and Deaton no doubt off to study all he could about magical trees. 

They barely made it over the threshold before Stiles froze and stared at his friend on the bed. Scott was lying on a bed with lots of machines the hospital had sent over hooked up to him. Someone had cleaned him from all the dirt and dressed him in a grey t-shirt that smelled like it belonged to Peter. He hadn’t woken up since he was found and no one seemed to have any idea of when he would, either. He looked exactly how Derek had seen him at the high school. Stiles clung onto Derek’s arm harshly, then he made a strangled sob and stumbled over to McCall. 

“Scott,” Stiles mumbled and hugged him. Derek watched in silence as Stiles cried against him. He wanted to reach out and touch Stiles, but at the same time he also felt like an intruder. Eventually Stiles straightened up and grabbed Scott’s face with both hands. 

“He looks so young,” Stiles said, staring down in amazement. Derek walked over and scooted the chair forth so Stiles could sit. Stiles didn’t even look away from Scott but sat down, still clutching his face. “He looks just like he did when he…” 

Derek placed a hand on Stiles shoulder and squeezed it gently. Stiles released Scott’s face and grabbed Derek’s hand with one hand. The other he laced around Scott’s nearest hand. 

“I never realized he had such a cringe haircut back then,” Stiles laughed, but half way through it turned into sobs again. Derek tried to push all calming emotions that he could muster onto Stiles, willing the feelings to slip through his skin and into Stiles’. 

“He’s so young,” Stiles mumbled. Derek squeezed his shoulder. 

“He’s alive.” Stiles took a shaky breath and nodded. Derek hesitated for a second, then, “You saved him.” 

Stiles tore his eyes away from Scott and looked at Derek. His eyes were filled with tears and he grimaced and shook his head. 

“I also killed him,” he said breathlessly. “He wouldn’t even have gotten turned if it wasn’t for me.”

“You heard what Deaton said,” Derek argued. “You stored a piece of him inside yourself. You saved him, _and_ you brought him to the place where he could be resurrected.” 

Stiles sniffled and looked back at McCall. He was silent for a while, then he leaned against Derek’s stomach. 

“We did something,” he mumbled. “We actually did something right.” 

“You do a lot of things right,” Derek said seriously. Stiles snorted. 

“Yeah, but I’m not talking about in the bedroom,” Stiles said, his voice teasing. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Neither was I,” Derek said. 

“Rude,” said Stiles. He twisted his head to look back up at him. “Can I borrow your phone? I need to… I want to call dad and have him tell Scott’s mom that he’s alive?” 

Stiles sounded so hesitant, like he was worried Derek would refuse and Derek felt a pang around his heart and fished up his phone quicker than humanly possible. 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you,” said Stiles.

“Can I ask you something?” Derek asked. Stiles looked up at him expectantly and nodded. Derek hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “How did you know you needed to stab yourself?” 

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows and considered the question for a moment. He slowly shook his head. 

“I don’t know, I just…  _ did _ . It was like how I felt with your dad; and going to the tree to begin with.” He said. Derek saw Stiles reach out to twirl the silver ring on his finger. “I just had this… pull.” 

Derek watched him seriously and handed over the phone to him. Stiles shot him a grateful smile and Derek felt something warm in his chest. He watched as Stiles dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. 

Of course Stiles knew his father’s phone number by heart. Who knew phone numbers nowadays?

“Hey dad,” Stiles said once the sheriff answered the line. Derek could hear him muffled through the receiver. 

“Stiles?” Stilinski said urgently. “Is everything alright?” 

Stiles took Scott’s hand again like he needed to remind himself that this was real. “Yeah, no, everything’s okay, I’m alright.” 

Derek could hear the man sigh with relief.

“How’s your heart?” Stiles asked. Derek felt a wave of nerves rush over him and he petted Stiles’ shoulder calmly. Stiles leaned into the touch. “Maybe you should sit down.” 

“Uh oh,” said Stilinski after a brief silence. Then Derek could faintly make out shuffles, probably the sheriff sitting down. “What have you done now?” 

“Well that is such a difficult question,” Stiles said and squirmed a little in his seat. “I mean, what haven’t I done is a better question at this point, to be honest.” 

Here Stiles glanced at Derek and actually blushed. 

“Stiles,” Derek heard Stilinski say warningly. Stiles tore his brown eyes away from Derek and bit his lip. 

“I, uh, may have illegally teleported Derek and myself to California to see Derek’s dying father and then fought a dark druid threatening to murder the entire Hale family to get ahold of the sacred tree growing in their territory.” Stiles rambled. “The tree that I then sacrificed myself to, effectively restoring its latent magical abilities which in turn resurrected Scott; who apparently I had stolen the dying spark from when he bled out in my arms.” 

Stiles was going into a panic. Derek took the phone from him, raised it into his ear while he hugged Stiles close. 

“Sheriff, it’s Derek.” Derek said. 

“Derek, what the hell is happening?” Stilinski said coolly. Derek petted Stiles over his hair and Stiles seemed to melt into him. 

“Tell him Scott’s alive,” Stiles mumbled. 

“We’re in Beacon Hills,” Derek said calmly. “Scott McCall is alive, but he hasn't woken up. I think you should inform his mother and then get here as soon as possible.” 

“What do you mean Scott’s alive?” Stilinski snapped, but the tone was that of a man about to lose his mind. Derek could hear the anguish in his voice. “We buried him, I saw his body, he’s dead.” 

“I understand that, Sir,” Derek said. Stiles looked up at him. 

“Tell him it’s magic!” 

“Sir, I don’t mean to pretend that I understand everything that’s happening right now, but I’m looking at Scott McCall right now. He is definitely alive.” 

“Holy shit,” Stilinski murmured. Derek echoed that sentiment. “I’ll - go to Melissa’s.” 

The sheriff cut the phone call without saying another word. Derek put the phone back in his pocket and squeezed Stiles gently.

“He said he’d take care of it.” He could feel Stiles take in another shaky breath. “Maybe you should go back to bed.” 

“No way, I’m staying here,” Stiles said and faced Scott again. Derek sighed. 

“He’s not waking up anytime soon.” Derek said and squeezed him gently. “You should rest so you actually manage to stay awake when he actually does wake up.” 

And for whenever Argent finally got past his mother and came to demand them to debrief him. He was surprised it had taken so long, but if he knew his mother correctly Argent was probably trying to navigate through whatever complex laws that gave alpha’s authority on their territories. Derek was certain Argent was already appealing to get the temporary custody Alpha Hale had over Stiles revoked as they waited. 

“I can practically hear your mind racing,” Stiles said into the silence that followed. He turned and gave Derek a sharp look. “You’re thinking about Argent and your job?” 

“I -” Derek sighed and sat down on the bed by Scott’s legs. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. It’s been an intense 24 hours.” 

In the last day, his father had almost died, his house had been attacked, he had been speared by an old colleague, almost had Jennifer Blake return to the land of the living, and seen Stiles stab himself in the stomach. Not to mention that he had seen Brunski be a massive creep and seen that asshole die. Derek shook his head. 

“Are you sure you shouldn’t rest?” Derek said. Stiles looked exhausted and worn, and Derek kept having this overwhelming urge to wrap him up in his own arms and sleep for a week. His body had already healed, except the spot on his chest that kept aching from Kali spearing him, but mentally he felt like he was about to fall apart. 

Stiles looked at Scott thoughtfully, then stood shakily. “Can you stay with me?” 

“Of course,” Derek said and slid down from the bed. He took hold of Stiles’ arm and guided him back to the other room, that Derek had immediately started to think of as Stiles’ hospital room. 

He helped Stiles over to the bed and together they laid down. Stiles shifted to rest his hand on Derek’s chest, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. Derek pulled up the cover over them. 

“Derek?” Stiles said slowly. Derek looked at him, and Stiles pressed his lips against his softly. Like the last time he had kissed him it felt like a question. Derek sighed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around him to pull close. 

“This is not resting,” he murmured against Stiles’ lips, but he did not attempt to stop kissing. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Stiles said and ghosted his hand down until he snuck it under Derek’s pants. Derek gasped at the feel of Stiles’ fingers close around his dick, tugging gently to get him hard. 

“Then what’s this?” Derek asked. 

“ADHD stimming?” Stiles offered and rubbed along his shaft. Derek gasped again and tightened his hold around him. 

Stiles’ lips were warm and with Derek’s gasp Stiles started kissing more passionately. He opened his mouth and practically invited Derek into his mouth, and then he did something with his hand that had Derek panting hard. 

Derek moaned into the kiss. Stiles’ thumb circled over his slit and shot sparks through his belly. 

“Can I -?” Derek asked and put his hand on Stiles’ stomach, waiting for confirmation before moving past the border of Stiles’ pants. 

“Derek, you can do whatever you want,” Stiles murmured and pumped him. Derek snuck his own hand past Stiles’ trousers and gripped Stiles’ dick. Stiles moaned softly, pulled away from the kiss and pressed his face into Derek’s chest. 

They fell into a rhythm together. Stiles’ soft moans against his collarbone made Derek desperate for release, and when Stiles nibbled lightly at him he came. Stiles came just a few seconds afterwards, which only made Derek feel slightly less awkward about coming so quickly. 

“That was not stimming,” Derek said when he caught his breath. Stiles laughed. 

“Which one of us have it?” he said and squirmed to look smugly at Derek. Derek snorted. 

“Well I think you’re pulling my leg,” Derek said. 

“No, I was pulling your dick.” Derek laughed. Stiles burrowed his face into Derek’s chest again. He could practically feel Stiles smirk against his skin. They both grew silent for a while and Stiles thoughtfully rubbed his hand over Derek’s chest. 

“How long until your mom can’t keep Argent out of here?” Stiles asked eventually. Derek felt his chest twist painfully. 

“Until you’ve recovered or if he gets a judge to sign a warrant, I guess,” Derek said and stroked his hand back up along Stiles’ back. “Why, do you -” 

_ ‘Want to stay here?’  _ he was about to ask. _ ‘With me.’  _ Stiles glanced up at him. His eyes looked dark and wide and Stiles said nothing but burrowed his face back against Derek. God, Derek wanted them to stay here, he realized. He wanted that so freaking much. 

* * *

Since Stiles’ hospital room was closer to the kitchen than Derek’s own, Derek could actually walk down into it when he needed to. He wasn’t sure if the ten meter distance was still a thing; he had been much further away in the woods, but he wasn’t interested in trying it’s boundaries. Derek was in the kitchen, getting a snack for Stiles when Peter walked in with Stiles’ father and a man and a woman Derek didn’t recognize. They were both dar-khaired, the woman wore her curly hair up in a pony tail and the man wore his in a short, professional haircut. 

After them came Argent, and he looked pissed. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring at Stilinski. Stilinski shot Argent a vicious look, but it was Talia who answered as she appeared from the living room. 

“I invited them,” she said smoothly, which was a lie because it was Derek who had told Stilinski to come. The tone of her voice was a challenge to Argent, though, to ask if he really would disagree with the alpha on her own territory. 

Argent shot Derek a filthy look. Apparently he was pissed about the fact that Talia had instructed Derek to not say a word to Argent without lawyers present. It felt a little over the top, but then again, the Hale pack had just been under magical attack and when the pack was attacked they closed ranks; that was just how it was. 

Talia stepped forth to the strangers and held out her hand. “Ms McCall, I’m not sure you remember me, I’m Alpha Talia Hale.” 

“I remember,” said the woman and shook his mother’s hand. Talia smiled and shook the man’s hand as well. 

So these were Scott’s parents. When Derek peered at them he could see it - the man looked very physically alike Scott, and the woman had this kind and gentle expression, kind of how Scott had looked when he pulled the iron bar out of Derek’s chest. 

When his mother was done she turned to Stilinski and shook his hand warmly. “Sheriff, good to see you again.” 

“You too, Mrs Hale.” 

“May I have a word with you?” Argent practically growled at Derek’s mother. Talia just smiled pleasantly. 

“Certainly,” she said, but she sounded as excited about it as the thought of a root canal. She gestured to Derek. “This is my son Derek, he can show you to Scott.” 

Derek heard both the McCalls’ and Stilinski gasp at the notion. He supposed it must feel like a dream to them, rather than reality. Derek nodded his greeting and gestured for them to follow him. 

“Is he awake?” Ms McCall asked worriedly as they walked up the stairs. Derek felt for her, he really did, and he felt like an asshole when he had to shake his head. 

“No, he hasn't woken up yet.” he said carefully. When they reached the door to Scott’s room he opened it and wasn’t surprised when he saw Stiles had snuck in as Derek had left him. Stiles was sitting on the chair next to the bed, holding onto Scott’s hand, but when the door opened his eyes snapped up like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. 

It would have been comical if it wasn’t for the fact that Stiles’ face, the moment he caught sight of Ms McCall, crumbled into an expression of guilt and grief. Ms McCall looked between the bed and Stiles, then she rushed forth and pulled Stiles into a bone-crushing hug. 

“ _ Stiles _ ,” she gasped out. Stiles was crying again, and the sobs had a hint of panic behind them. 

“M-Melissa,” he murmured. Ms McCall pulled away and wiped Stiles cheeks from tears. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, passionately, warmly, overwhelmingly motherly. Then Derek saw how she turned her attention to Scott on the bed and she released Stiles and hurried over to her son. Stiles looked at them with wide eyes, then he glanced to the door where Derek, his father and Mr McCall - who stood stiff - were standing. 

Derek saw Stiles’ amber eyes slide off of McCall guiltily, barely touching his father before they sought out Derek. Derek smiled as reassuringly as he could and held out his hand for him. Stiles jerked into motion and hurried over to grasp it, and Derek pulled him out of the room. 

“We’ll give you some privacy,” he said to McCall. “We’re in the other room if you need anything.” 

McCall nodded shakily and Derek hurried Stiles into Stiles’ hospital room. Stilinski followed them and closed the door carefully behind them. 

“Hey, kid,” Stilinski said and Stiles buried himself in Stilinski’s chest. The crying returned, and Derek wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he knew this was for Stilinski, not him. He went over to the bed instead and sat down, eating the snack that was supposed to be for Stiles’ to have something to do. He didn’t even like peanut butter. 

Stilinski was making soothing noises as he rubbed his son’s back. Derek tried his best to pretend he wasn’t interloping on this private scene. The only thing that made him feel slightly better was the fact that the scene next door was bound to be ten thousand times more intimate. He could hear both Mr and Ms McCall cry, so he was already taking too much part in that. 

Eventually Stiles pulled away from his dad and wiped his face. 

“God, I’m a mess,” he muttered, glanced over to Derek and realised that Derek was half-way through his snack. Stiles gasped and rushed over. “You fiend, you know how much I love PB&J!” 

Derek allowed Stiles to wrestle the sandwich out of his grasp and smiled as he shoved as much of it as he could into his mouth. He even kept smiling as Stiles chewed it with his mouth open.  _ ‘Gross,’ _ his mind supplied fondly. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?” Stilinski said and sat down in the chair next to the bed. He shot both of them a sharp look and Derek pitied the people who got pulled into interrogation against the Sheriff. 

“Well, the weather’s been exceptionally hot, but then again we  _ are _ in California,” Stiles said avoidantly. Stilinski looked at Derek expectantly, so Derek made a recap of everything. Stiles chewed his sandwich gloomily and didn’t even fill in his own input at the badass parts. If anything he shrunk himself together when Derek described the fight between the nogitsune and the darach, and he really made himself small when Derek reached the part where Stiles stabbed himself in the gut. 

Stilinski looked at Stiles disapprovingly, but before he had the chance to say anything there was a knock on the door and Ms McCall poked her head inside. It was obvious that she had been crying rivers. Her face was red and mushy and she looked tired in that way only an intense crying session could make you, but she also smiled at them gently. 

“Come on guys,” she said. “Time for family meeting.” 

Stilinski stood and smiled at her. Stiles remained stiffly on the bed. His hand sought out Derek’s and he squeezed it painfully. Derek pretended that the grip didn’t hurt. Stilinski and Ms McCall looked back at them. Derek thought he saw an understanding flash through McCall’s face, because her face softened even more. 

“Coming, Stiles?” she asked. Stiles glanced at Derek, who tried to give him the most encouraging smile he could, but it didn’t look like Stiles wanted to let him go. 

“I, uh, have to bring Derek, he can’t leave my side…” he said hesitantly, almost like he hoped that would be a dealbreaker. No one mentioned that Derek had been the one to lead them from the kitchen to begin with, nor that he definitely didn’t need to be exactly in Stiles’ periphery. 

Ms McCall just looked at him and smiled. “Okay, Derek, are you coming?” 

Derek glanced at Stiles, nodded and stood up. He didn’t comment on the fact that Stiles clung to him when they walked back into Scott’s room, nor did he mention how Stiles kept pressing his nails into the palm of Derek’s hand. 

* * *

Derek was up and out of bed before Argent even burst into the room. He had heard the ruckus on the stairs; Talia and Argent arguing, some of Argent’s men pushing past, some of Derek’s pack following suspiciously. He knew Argent had gotten the rights to Stiles over Talia before they even entered and he saw the paper in his boss’ hand.

“We’re going back,” Argent said darkly. Derek positioned himself between Argent and Stiles on the bed and resisted the urge to growl at him. His mother, Stiles’ father as well as guards, including Yukimura, and pack welled into the room too. Talia had her jaw clenched, Argent looked like he was seconds away from snapping. 

Argent looked at Derek, unimpressed and sneered. “You are fired. Stiles, break the spell.” 

Derek didn’t flinch, but he didn’t move from his spot either. For a moment they stared unwaveringly at each other. 

“No,” Stiles said. Argent’s eyes snapped over to him on the bed with a frown. 

“Excuse me?” he said. Derek glanced back just in time to see Stiles calmly cross his arms. If it wasn’t for the rapid beating of his heart Derek wouldn’t have been able to tell he was anything other than calm and collected. 

“Derek is not fired.” Stiles said and angled his face defiantly. “I’m not breaking the spell.” 

“You don’t have a choice,” Argent said dangerously. 

“I am the one with the magic,” Stiles said. Light started to flicker in the room like it threatened to go out. Argent looked around, then slowly resettled his cool eyes on Derek and frowned. 

“Fine,” he hissed out and grabbed the boxes Yukimura held in her arms. Argent stalked past Derek, dropped both boxes down on the bed and forcefully hung the amulet that allowed travel back into the house over Stiles’ neck. “We will discuss this in Washington.” 

“We’re discussing it now,” Stiles said, unimpressed. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but he did glare Argent’s way. “Derek will continue his job. He will not be held responsible for anything that happened this last week.” 

“He -” Argent shut his mouth, seemingly realising that shouting would get him nowhere. Instead, Derek saw him soften his tone and slump his shoulders lightly, as if he was trying to make himself more agreeable that way. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said gently, “but Brunski is dead and -” 

“Brunski was going to rape your million dollar investment,” Stiles practically hissed out. The lights were definitely going out. Argent took a step back, his hand reaching his gun on his hip, but he didn’t pull it. 

“You don’t know what he was doing -” 

“No, I’m sure he was checking for injuries,” Stiles growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes were growing darker by the second and he bared his teeth. 

Bared teeth were a challenge. Every wolf in the room tensed. Oddly enough, so did Yukimura. 

“Derek stays,” Stiles said lowly, “or I’ll make it my personal goal in life to be the biggest pain in the ass that I can be. You’re going to have to sedate me, and try and find a way to stop me from teleporting. Probably have to find a way to stop me from feeding on the guards too, because I will  _ destroy _ them. 

“Or you make it easy for yourself, Chris, and just let Derek keep his job.” Stiles smiled then, sweet and fake as artificial honey. “Your choice.” 

Argent was silent for a moment, then hissed out through clenched teeth, “Fine. But you’re going to behave exemplary.” 

Stiles scoffed in a way that said  _ ‘I’m a fucking delight,’  _ but also shook his head seriously. Argent glared over to Derek quickly, then opened the box that contained the daggers. 

Derek expected the sickly wave of magic to flash over him, but nothing happened. Still, he watched with growing concern as Stiles picked up one of the daggers and put it to his wrist. He didn’t push down yet, and in the corner of his eye he saw Stilinski look the other way. 

So Derek wasn’t the only one who got nauseous at the sight of Stiles having to self harm in order to teleport people. That made him like Stilinski so much more than he already did. Stiles glanced up from the dagger to Argent. 

“Is everyone coming?” he asked. Derek knew he meant all guards Argent had overrun his home with. Argent nodded stiffly. Stiles grimaced and seemed to collect himself for a few moments before he pulled the dagger smoothly along his arm. 

The cut was cleaner than the mug because the blade was so sharp. Blood started to well forth. Derek cast an eye around the room for when the shadows would start to move, but nothing happened. He looked to Stiles who frowned, staring at his wrist like it wasn’t his. 

“Stiles,” Argent growled out in warning. Stiles looked up. 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he said, panicked. “I can’t -” 

And then Stiles’ body seized up and his eyes glossed over. He started twitching. The dagger slipped from his fingers and he fell back into the bed. Derek rushed over immediately and pushed the knife away from him, then twisted him to the side. His high school best friend Erica had epilepsy and Derek recognised a seizure when he saw one. 

“Stiles, are you okay?” he asked, but the spasms didn’t stop. He knew better than to hold him down, but he also knew that Stiles had just slit his own arm. Blood was spilling on the sheets and eventually Derek thought  _ ‘screw it’  _ and pressed the pillow over the wound. Stiles might dislocate his entire shoulder because of this, but at least he wouldn’t bleed out. 

“Get Deaton!” Derek heard his mother roar, but she sounded far away and if she hadn’t used the alpha voice he probably wouldn’t even have heard her. He barely heard whatever panicked thing Stilinski screamed about. 

Stiles stopped jerking uncontrollably after a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Erica usually became conscious again once the seizure stopped, but Stiles became catatonic. He stared forward into space and his pupils didn’t react as Derek waved his hand in front of him. 

Deaton and Ms McCall burst into the room and both started to quickly assessed the damage. 

“Has this happened before?” Deaton demanded while Melissa grabbed a flashlight from Deaton’s open doctors bag and shone into Stiles’ eyes. Derek moved out of the way, but even he saw that the pupil didn’t even react to light as it got shone in. 

“No,” said Stilinski and Argent in a choir. 

“We need to get him to the hospital,” Ms McCall said urgently. 

“Peter, call an ambulance,” Talia ordered. 

Deaton picked up the dagger carefully from the floor and stared at it, then he shot a thoughtful glance at Stiles’ unmoving body. 

When the ambulance arrived, both Stilinski and Derek moved to get into it with Stiles. 

“Only one person,” the ambulance nurse said. Derek glanced briefly at Stilinski, then turned back to her. 

“That’s his father,” he pointed at Stilinski, then Stiles. “I’m his bodyguard. We’re both coming with.” 

And then Derek crammed himself inside and pulled Stilinski with him. The nurse shut up when Derek flashed his wolf-eyes at her. 

* * *

At the hospital several tests were made, all of which came back inconclusive. Derek quickly realised that was doctor-speak for  _ ‘we have no idea what’s wrong.’ _ The best magical professionals in California were called in, as well as the doctors who treated Stiles back in Washington. 

Stiles remained catatonic for four days. They seriously felt like some of the longest days of Derek’s life. Guards were posed outside of Stiles’ hospital room 24/7 and Stilinski and he slept in uncomfortable plastic chairs next to Stiles’ bed the entire time. 

On the fourth day, Deaton, Talia and Argent arrived with the magical professionals. Derek straighetend up and watched them tiredly. 

“We have a theory,” Deaton said carefully and watched unresponsive Stiles’ with interest. Argent was glowering, practically looking murderous. Derek knew that whatever it was, his boss hated it. “Now, kitsunes are very rare, and nogitsunes even more so. Their species is often clouded in mystery. But I did come across a _ Shugendō _ scroll as I was researching Stiles’ condition.” 

“A what?” Stilinski asked. He sounded as confused and tired as Derek felt. 

“ _ Shugendō _ were ascetic mystics of Japan,” Deaton explained kindly. “This scroll contains information on how to exorcise a nogitsune without killing the host.” 

Before anyone could react Stilinski was up and pointed an accusatory finger at Argent. 

“You said that there was no way of exorcising it!” he shouted. Argent gritted his teeth. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said cuttinly. Deaton raised his hands, trying to calm the situation. 

“The scroll is very old, and very rare.” he said. “The only reason I even got access to look at it is because I have contacts deeply invested in the occult.” 

Stilinski glanced between them and over to Stiles and Derek by the bed. 

“Okay,” he said, barely controlled anger in his voice. “So how do we exorcise it?” 

“I think Stiles already has.” Deaton said. Derek frowned and glanced at his mother. He didn’t quite understand the fierce protectiveness he saw in her face, but it calmed him a little. 

“How?” Derek asked slowly. Deaton looked to him and pulled forth some photos that proved to be of a tiny little scroll.

“According to the  _ Shugendō _ scroll one method of expelling is to change the body of the host.” Deaton said. Derek furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Stiles confused. Deaton continued, looking more intrigued than he probably should. “The host cannot be a fox and something else at the same time. A simple way of changing the hosts’ body would be through a werewolf-bite.” 

“But he’s not a werewolf,” Derek said. He would definitely know if Stiles’ was. 

“No,” Deaton said and shook his head. “But we think that what Stiles did inside the Nemeton changed him. When he sacrificed himself on the Nemeton’s blood altar he did it to stop the Darach and save you, Derek.

“I think that that turned Stiles into a guardian of the tree, just like you and the rest of the Hale pack.” Deaton nodded to Derek, then gestured to Talia. “By accepting the role as a guardian, I think that Stiles bound his power, as well as the nogitsune’s, to the Nemeton. I also believe that is the reason the tree grew back.” 

Derek blinked down at Stiles, who were still staring up in space. They had tried to close his eyes, but for some reason they would open again almost as quickly as they shut. 

“So he stopped being a fox to become a guardian?” Derek asked. Deaton nodded. Derek frowned and chewed on the inside of his lip. “He did say several times that he felt this… pull here. I thought he meant the wards at first, but he said he felt the same pull when he drew out the curse out of my father, as well as when he found the Nemeton.” 

“It might have something to do with the binding spell and your connection,” Deaton said thoughtfully. By his side Derek saw Argent tense and frown. “May I look at the charm?” 

Derek held forth his own hand and Deaton inspected the ring in fascination. 

“Is this your father’s wedding ring?” Deaton asked. Derek nodded. “And it’s made of silver, correct?” 

Derek nodded again. 

“Kitsunes’ have a slight vulnerability to silver.” Deaton said and stroked his chin. “And since the ring has such a strong tie to you, Derek, it might have established a connection between Stiles’ powers and your natural affiliation to the tree.” 

Derek mulled it over. Derek and Stiles had created a magical connection that bound Stiles to Derek’s… sacred duty, or whatever, and in effect eventually exorcised Stiles of the spirit that had possessed him for eight years? 

No wonder Argent was pissed. 

“Okay, but why is he like this now?” Derek asked, pushing the repercussions of that away to be dealt with at another time. “How do we fix him?” 

“Best we can tell is that his condition is an allergic reaction to the kaiken he tried to spell with.” Deaton said slowly and pulled forth a vial with a concoction. “Now, this is something I mixed together with leaves from the freshly restored Nemeton. I think it will heal him. If he is a guardian, he now has a sacred bond to the tree, just like all Hales.” 

“You think?” Stilinski said, eying the vial suspiciously. 

“It’s the best option we have,” Talia said calmly. Derek saw Stilinski glare at her, but then he nodded and stepped away. Deaton walked over to the bed and got a syringe from one of the medical professionals. He filled the syringe and then added the liquid into Stiles’ IV-bag. 

“Now what?” Derek asked. 

“Now we see what happens,” Deaton said calmly. Derek couldn’t even pretend that answer didn’t infuriate him, so he didn’t even try. 

Barely five hours later Stiles became conscious again. Derek had never felt so relieved. 

* * *

Argent being pissed was an understatement. Argent was furious; Argent’s bosses were even more so. Fortunately, Talia Hale and the representatives from the Supernatural Judicial System were equally furious. 

Stiles couldn’t leave the hospital so Derek couldn’t sit in on the hearings, but after his mother and her lawyers had presented a foolproof statement in accordance with guardianship-roles of magical places, all of which criteria Stiles fulfilled in accordance with the SPARK-manual; as well as the mistreatment Stiles had suffered by some of the guards, Brunski’s noted use of excessive force and what he had tried to pull in the forest on the top of the list, the judge ruled the legal guardianship of Mieczyslaw Stilinski over to Talia Hale. Stiles was declared part of the Hale pack and Talia Hale declared his Alpha. 

It was Talia herself who told them, Stiles lying in the bed and eating snickers, Stilinski sitting next to him on one side of the bed and Derek on the other. Stiles blinked, shocked into silence for several minutes. 

“But… what does that mean?” he asked, sounding young and vulnerable. All Derek wanted to do was pull him into a hug, but he did his best and refrained from it. 

“Well,” said Talia slowly and smiled kindly at him. “It means that you always have a place in our pack, should you want it. Legally you will always belong to our pack, but we won’t force you anywhere, or force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re a free man, Stiles.” 

Stiles continued to stare at her, then slowly looked down on his hands. Derek could hear his heartbeat drumming away rapidly against his chest and then he actually did reach out and touch him. Stiles immediately laced their fingers together and held on so tightly Derek lost all blood circulation to his fingers. 

Derek didn’t comment on it, nor did his mother or Stiles’ father raise an eyebrow at the gesture. 

The same day Stiles got discharged from the hospital, so Talia drew them all back home to the preserve. Stilinski was in the passenger's seat and Stiles and Derek sat in the back. Stiles didn’t let go of him, even when they arrived, and he climbed through the car rather than step out on his side just to insure their connection didn’t break. 

The entire pack had been told about their latest member and had thrown together a surprise barbeque that Stiles seemed completely too overwhelmed to take in anything of. Stiles even met Derek’s dad, alive and fully recovered now, but it seemed like it barely registered. Stiles followed Derek around until Derek eventually decided that they needed to go somewhere private. 

Before they had a chance to pull away Deaton appeared next to them. 

“Do you think you can break the spell yourself?” Deaton asked. Stiles looked up and blinked at him, the first real indication that he noticed anything that happened around him. 

“Break it..?” he murmured. Deaton gestured to the silver ring on Stiles’ finger. Stiles followed the movement with a frown.

“You’re part of the pack now,” Deaton said slowly. His dark eyes searched Stiles’ paling face. “There’s no need for you to be chained like you’re a criminal.” 

Stiles actually let go of Derek for the first time in hours and clutched his hand protectively over the ring. Then he seemed to realise he had released Derek and snapped his head towards him with such speed Derek heard his neck crack uncomfortably. The panic was so clear in his face that for a moment Derek was tongue-tied, then his body just jerked into motion and he wrapped Stiles up in a hug. Stiles clung to him like he would die if he let go, and he shook his head. 

“I - I can’t,” Stiles said, sounding frantic. Derek rubbed soothingly over his back. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do it right now,” he said gently. That actually seemed to calm Stiles down. Derek glared at Deaton who looked unapologetic. 

“He needs to lie down,” Derek said and promptly led Stiles away from the party. They went up the stairs, Stiles once again holding Derek’s hand hostage in a deathgrip. Before he had the chance to guide him to the hospital room Stiles looked at him urgently. 

“I want to be in your room,” he said. Derek just nodded and helped him up the extra stairs. 

Once they were inside and Derek had closed the door Stiles released him and marched over to the bookcase. He grabbed Fluffy with such a vigor and pressed the stuffed dog to his chest like he needed it to keep afloat.Derek watched him for a minute, then he walked over to bed and sat down. 

“Come here,” he said. Stiles glanced over at him hesitantly. The panic was still shooting off him in waves, but without a bunch of people everywhere it seemed like he was calming down. Slowly Stiles walked over to him, bringing the stuffed animal with him. 

Derek pulled him down into the bed and Stiles shuffled around until he slipped into a little spoon position with Derek’s arms around him and Fluffy pressed to his chest. Derek closed his eyes and breathed in his scent. He mostly smelled of hospital and cheap soap, but underneath all of that there was a scent unmistakably Stiles. 

“Is this real?” Stiles mumbled silently. Somehow Derek knew he wasn’t actually talking to him, he was talking to himself. “This  _ can’t _ be real.” 

Derek hugged him tighter and nuzzled his face into Stiles’ neck. “It  _ is _ real.” 

Stiles shook his head and took a shaky breath. 

“It can’t be,” he said. “Things like this don’t happen to me. Scott’s alive, I can’t feel  _ it _ in my mind, I’m supposed to stay here…” 

“Well, you don’t  _ have _ to stay here,” Derek said hesitantly and pretended he didn’t feel a pang shoot through his heart at the thought of Stiles leaving him. 

“But I want to,” Stiles whispered so silently, like he was worried that saying it loudly would break everything. “If you’re here I want to stay here.” 

Derek’s chest went warm and he started grinning. Stiles however sounded just as broken and worried as before. 

“If I break the spell, will you leave me?” he asked. Derek pushed himself up on his arm and tugged Stiles around to face him. Fluffy ended up between them. Derek looked over Stiles face seriously, then shook his head. 

“I  _ will not  _ leave you,” he said as ceremoniously and seriously as he could. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me. And if you don’t want to be here, I’ll follow you wherever you want to go.” 

“What if you just say that now,” Stiles said and put a hand over Derek’s heart, “because somehow I managed to bind us together so tightly that it  _ changed  _ me? Maybe it changed you, too. Influenced you somehow, and when I break the spell you’ll change your mind.” 

Derek’s heart ached and he hugged Stiles to him. “You haven’t, but if you’re worried you don’t have to break the spell.” 

“I have to!” Stiles said and shoved him off, but he kept his hand over Derek’s heart. Stiles shook his head and looked like he would break out into tears any second. “I can’t trap you like that; if you’re feeling something that’s not… yours.” 

Derek gently placed his own hand over Stiles’ and squeezed it. 

“Then break it,” Derek said calmly. “And I’ll still be here. With you, feeling my own feelings.” 

Stiles swallowed and closed his eyes. 

“I’m scared.” he whispered. “I’m so scared, and  _ tired _ , and if I lose you I’ll die. If this isn’t real, I’ll die.” 

Derek pulled him back into a hug and this time Stiles didn’t resist. Derek rested his chin on the top of his head and rubbed a hand over Stiles’ back. 

“I’m here,” Derek said. “I’ll be here tomorrow; and the day after that, and every day after that. You might not know this, but I’m pretty ride or die.” 

Stiles laughed into his chest and sniffled. He squirmed around a little, then put some space between them. He looked Derek in the face and nodded. 

“Okay.” he said and took Derek’s hand, the left one where the ring sat. Derek watched him close his eyes and take a deep, shaky breath, and then the room started to dim. Derek watched Stiles’ face furrow in concentration. He felt the magic swirl around, but if anything it felt pleasant against his skin - familiar, like he knew it well. 

Something tickled around his finger, and when Stiles opened his eyes Derek looked down and saw that the silver ring was off of him. The ring on Stiles’ finger was also gone. 

Stiles opened his palm to show just the one ring. Derek looked between it and Stiles and smiled at him. 

“See? Still here.” he said. Stiles held out the ring for him. 

“You should take this,” he said silently. Derek put his hand over Stiles and made him close his fingers around the ring again. 

“You hold onto it for me,” he said. “And then if you get scared I’m not serious, you can look down on it and know that there’s no way I’d give this to someone I didn’t trust completely.” 

“That was cheesy, Wolfie,” Stiles said eventually, but he didn’t let go of the ring. Derek shrugged lightly. 

“Eh, no one will believe you; everyone thinks I’m a sourwolf.” 

Stiles laughed and hugged him tightly, and Derek didn’t mention how quickly his heartbeat was going, like he worried Derek would pull away any second. He just put his chin back on Stiles’ head and hugged him, trying to show through his embrace that he wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

“Scott’s awake,” was the first thing the sheriff said when he opened the door. He didn’t say anything about Derek and Stiles cuddling on Derek’s bed, and Stiles bounced out of bed so quickly that Derek wasn’t even sure it had happened. 

“Oh my god, he’s awake?” Stiles gasped and ran to give his father a hug. The sheriff hugged him back tightly. Derek got out of bed at a calmer speed. 

“We have to see him!” Stiles said when he pulled away, then he froze and glanced back at Derek. The fear that Derek wouldn’t want to come with was visible on his face, so Derek smiled at him and took his hand when he came close enough. Stiles relaxed a little, but held onto him tightly as they walked to Scott’s room. 

Stiles was practically shaking as they reached it, and when they stepped in Stiles stopped and just stared. Scott McCall was not only awake, but standing. He looked completely healed, like a healthy, strong sixteen-year-old. Scott was hugging his mom, but when he noticed Stiles his head snapped towards them and he untangled himself from her and ran over. 

“Stiles!” he shouted and hugged him. He lifted Stiles off the floor in his excitement and Stiles clung onto Scott like he couldn’t believe he was real. 

Derek, the sheriff and Scott’s parents watched the reunion. It took a long time before either of them released each other, and when they did Stiles once again placed both hands on Scott’s face and just looked at him. 

“Scott,” he murmured. Scott beamed the same bright, friendly smile Derek remembered from the dreamscape. 

“You look so old now, dude!” Scott said and looked him over. “And skinny, aren’t you eating?” 

Stiles laughed and cried at the same time and hugged Scott again. Derek saw his shoulders begin to shake as he cried on Scott. He kept murmuring Scott over and over again. Scott looked momentarily saddened, but held Stiles as he wept. 

Eventually Stiles pulled away a second time and cleared his throat. He gestured towards Derek. “Uh, Scott, this is -” 

“Derek!” Scott filled in and bounced over to hug Derek too. Derek blinked but hugged him back. 

“You know Derek?” Stiles asked, confused. Scott pulled away and grinned between them. 

“Yeah, of course I know your boyfriend, dude.” 

“He’s not my -” Stiles stuttered. Scott shot Derek a look that clearly said  _ ‘admit your his boyfriend now or I’ll end you.’ _

Derek looked between Scott, the teenager who actually kind of unsettled him in that moment, to Stiles who looked like he was short-circuiting. 

“Stiles, want to be my boyfriend?” he asked calmly. If anything that made Stiles short-circuit more. Scott brightened up and looked at Stiles. Stiles stuttered a few times, then quickly glanced at his dad before he looked back at Derek. 

“I - yes?” he said, sounding confused. Scott bounced back at Stiles and high-fived him. Stiles looked dazed. 

Sheriff Stilinski looked at Derek and clasped him warmly on the shoulder. Derek smiled a little at him. 

“Oh my god, do you know what I just realized?” Scott exclaimed excitedly and clung to Stiles’ shoulder. “We’re 25! I don’t have to go back to high school!” 

Derek looked over to see Stiles toss his head back and laugh, then hug Scott tightly again. 

* * *

The first thing Stiles and Derek did, once Stiles actually realised that he was a free man, was to go on a road trip. Stiles had spent the last eight years under lock and key, so Derek figured it was time to live a little. Before they drove off the entire pack gathered in front of the house to say goodbye to them. 

Scott McCall, as the newest member, who needed stability as well as training to be a werewolf, hugged both of them for a really long time. Scott’s mother and father were there too, determined to make up for lost time. That was the thing with pack - anyone who needed it got a place to stay. 

Mr Stilinski was going to go back home, but the plan was to drive all the way to finish the road trip with him. Stilinski handed over a pair of keys to Stiles after they pulled away. Stiles looked down at them in amazement.

“Are these the keys to the jeep?” Stiles asked. Stilinski ruffled his son’s hair. 

“It’s waiting for you at home,” he said. Stiles hugged him again, and then Stilinski gave Derek a hug too. 

“Take care of my son, Derek,” he ordered. Derek nodded. 

“I will, Sir.” 

Derek hugged his parents and sisters goodbye. Stiles held out the silver ring to Derek’s father. 

“This belongs to you,” he said. Tony looked down on it and pushed it back to Stiles. 

“You saved my life, Stiles,” he said and shook his head. “And our territory. You keep it.” 

Stiles looked hesitant and Derek saw him glance at Talia, who just smiled and nodded. Stiles pulled his hand to his chest and clutched the ring tightly. Derek slung an arm around his shoulder. 

“You ready to go?” he asked. Stiles nodded. Derek picked up their bags - which wasn’t much because Stiles didn’t own anything and Derek didn’t have his stuff in the Hale house to begin with - and started walking to the Camero. Stiles stilled as he saw it. 

“We’re driving that?” he asked. Derek placed the bags in the boot and nodded. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“I’m driving,” Stiles said excitedly. Derek hesitated. 

“You haven’t driven in over eight years.” he said. “Do you even have a to-date drivers license?” 

“God, Derek, stop being such a stickler to the rules.” Stiles said. 

“How about we renew your driver's license, and then you drive?” Derek said. Stiles sighed loudly but settled down in the passenger's seat. 

* * *

They drove without a plan and Derek let Stiles point whichever direction he wanted to go. They stopped at motels during the nights and went to tourist-attractions if they drove past them. They ate a lot of junk food. Stiles was not kidding when he said he loved curly fries. 

It wasn’t all great, though. Derek would catch Stiles stare out of the window sometimes, his face twisted in something between panic and exhaustion. The bags under his eyes were disappearing and he was gaining weight, but in those silent moments there was a haunted expression on his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asked one day. Stiles tore his eyes away from the landscape and looked at him thoughtfully. 

“I keep thinking, what if this isn’t real?” Stiles said. Derek grew silent and watched the road. He knew Stiles kept thinking about it. Stiles dreamt nightmares that he woke screaming from. He was getting better, but recovery was still a long road and one road trip wouldn’t fix it. Only time would. 

Derek reached out and took Stiles' hand. He squeezed it gently. 

“We’re real,” he said with certainty, and Stiles didn’t even argue with him. That was progress. Three months ago he would have. 

When they finally made their way across the country to meet up with Stiles’ father one of the first things they learned was that he had a new job, as the Sheriff of Beacon County. Both Stiles and Stilinski cried, and then Stilinski ordered Derek to call him Noah and took them out to dinner. 

They stayed there a few days, helped Noah pack the last of his stuff, then they loaded everything up in a baby-blue jeep Stiles affectionately called Roscoe and made their way back across the country. Sometimes Derek drove the Camaro alone, Stiles and his father in the other car, sometimes Stiles forced Derek to go in the Jeep with Stiles while Noah drove the Camaro. 

Once they made their way back to the preserve the pack hosted a barbeque. Scott told Stiles all about the new friends he’d made at school, and how he had started playing lacrosse again.

“Do you know werewolves don’t have asthma?” Scott said cheerfully. “I’ve made captain.” 

“That’s great, Scott,” Stiles said and grinned, and somehow that turned into an impromptu lacrosse game that Stiles somehow roped Derek into as well. 

* * *

“Hey,” Derek said and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist. Stiles stood on the porch, his hands on the railing and his eyes locked onto the woods. Derek placed his chin on Stiles’ shoulder and breathed in his scent. Stiles leaned into him and sighed contently. “What’cha thinkin about?” 

“Aunt Rosa’s vaseline.” Stiles said. Derek could hear the smirk on his face. 

“Oh, I see,” he said amused and kissed his neck. “You know we bought lube, right?” 

Stiles twisted about and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders. 

“Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic,” he whispered and pressed his lips against Derek’s. Derek kissed back, gently, but Stiles kept deepening it to something hot and needy. Derek was practically hard and panting when Stiles pulled away. Based on the satisfied expression on his face, that had been Stiles’ intent all along. 

“Let me fuck you,” Stiles said. Derek suppressed a groan of arousal but could only take so much. He hugged Stiles to him again and nibbled at his earlobe. 

“Yes,” he mumbled against Stiles’ skin. “However you want.” 

“Then we’re stealing the vaseline,” Stiles said cheerfully and darted out of his arms. Derek laughed and followed him, first to the down-stairs bathroom, then up the stairs to Derek’s room. 

It wasn’t just Derek’s room anymore though. It was Stiles’ room too. 

Stiles’ comic books laid next to the bed for easy reading. There were even some real books there as well, because Stiles could actually read again without the words jumping all over the place. It didn’t look like Derek’s childhood bedroom either. 

Derek and Stiles had picked out new furniture - some that were leather and chrome to Stiles’ absolute delight. They had crammed a velvet sofa in the room. Stiles’ had found a hideous glass lamp at a flea market that was their bedside light. They had the knitted family heirloom Derek’s nanna had made at the foot of the bed, because Stiles got cold in the night, plus he kept stealing it from the living room so many times that Talia eventually gave up and offered it to Stiles. Fluffy rested by the pillows. 

When they came into the room Stiles twisted around and kissed Derek again. He pulled away fast enough to jerk Derek’s shirt off over his head, then his hands snaked down and unzipped Derek’s jeans. Stiles shoved them down unceremoniously so Derek almost stumbled trying to kick them off and Derek growled, causing Stiles to laugh and bounced off to the bed. 

“Sorry dude,” he said to Fluffy, picked the toy up and turned it facing away from the bed on the floor. Derek rolled his eyes fondly and walked over. Stiles reached after him the moment he came close, and soon Stiles had managed to get Derek on his back. He pulled off his own clothes and nudged himself between Derek’s thighs. 

For a moment they both looked at each other, Stiles’ eyes trailing over Derek’s chest. Derek felt warm underneath it, and his cock was hard with want already. Stiles looked good. He had been so skinny when they met, but now he had filled out. He actually started to gain weight, and with that he also gained muscles. 

Derek loved the ripples of his shoulders, the way his skin showed the swell of his muscles. Derek wanted all of that inside him. Like Stiles could read his mind he grinned over him and leaned down to trail kisses down Derek’s stomach. 

Derek sighed and let Stiles work his way down to his crotch. Stiles’ hands were stroking over his thighs, causing goosebumps to spread. Derek groaned loudly when Stiles pushed Derek’s dick into his mouth, deepthroating it almost immediately. Derek didn’t know how Stiles had become a cock-sucking genius, but it was really inspiring and he wanted to suck Stiles too. 

Stiles just laughed when he told him, but it wasn’t a cruel laugh but rather filled with warmth and teasing. The teasing ensured that Derek didn’t get to suck Stiles’ dick, but Stiles fondled his balls and Derek forgot all about the complaints he would file. 

“You are so fucking hot,” Stiles murmured around Derek’s dick, so it was a little hard to understand him. Didn’t stop Stiles from talking dirty though. Derek pretended it didn’t get to him, but when Stiles explained how he was going to fuck him slowly until he was writhing mess who wouldn’t even remember his own name his dick twitched in excitement and Stiles grinned around him. 

“Stiles, please,” Derek pleaded when he couldn’t take more of the torture. “I need you inside of me.” 

“Needy,” Stiles murmured, but he released his dick with a wet pop and reached over to grab the lube from the nightstand. Derek was kind of thankful they left the vaseline alone, because he felt bad for his aunt. And he also knew Stiles mostly just brought it up to tease. 

Derek shifted his head up on the pillows properly so he could watch Stiles. First Stiles poured lube onto his fingers, then wriggled them around to warm up the lube. Stiles glanced up at him and Derek smiled at him. Stiles smiled back and then just as torturously slow started circling his anus. 

Derek groaned and pressed into the mattress, letting himself feel the sensations. Stiles pressed a finger past the rim while he wrapped his other hand around Derek’s dick and started jerking him off. Derek thrusted up lightly and Stiles twisted him open slowly and expertly. Derek was practically a mess already when Stiles deemed Derek stretched enough. 

Derek cracked one eye open to watch as Stiles applied more lube onto his dick, then he hoisted Derek’s thighs up a little. Derek immediately wrapped his legs around Stiles waist and pulled him close. Stiles moaned and rubbed against him for a moment, then slowly he leaned down, kissed Derek and pressed into him. 

Derek hugged him close; clung to his shoulders desperately. 

“You okay?” Stiles murmured against his lips. 

“God yes,” Derek said, shoved his tongue into Stiles’ mouth and started wriggling around to get Stiles to move. Stiles chuckled amused and started moving. 

It wasn’t fast, it was deliberate. Stiles pretty immediately found Derek’s prostate, and he kept hitting it with every thrust. Derek started to tremble, and he moved one hand down to clutch Stiles’ ass. 

And the thing was that Stiles was loud in bed while Derek was quiet, but the sounds Stiles made against him set his skin on fire. They rocked together, Stiles moaning and panting and whispering filthy things, and Derek fucking loved it. He wanted all of it.

Stiles wrapped his fingers around Derek’s dick again and Derek tensed, feeling himself coming closer to the edge. 

“Come for me, baby,” Stiles murmured into the kiss and Derek just exploded. He ached off the bed and tugged Stiles close as his orgasm rocked through him. Stiles kept thrusting into him as he tightened around him, and with a shout, only slightly muffled against Derek’s lips, Stiles came too.

They were both panting hard. Derek refused to let him to and Stiles seemed intent on using Derek as a mattress. 

“God, I love you,” Derek gasped. Stiles pushed up on his elbows and stared down at Derek, then he slowly started smiling. 

“You love me?” he asked. Derek smiled and nodded. 

“I love you,” he said again. Stiles leaned down and kissed him, this time not hot and bothered, but gentle and a different kind of awesome. 

“I love you too, Derek,” he murmured into the kiss. Derek felt his heart make a leap and hugged Stiles closer to him. 

“Um, Stiles, did you blow the electrics?” Derek asked once they finally stopped kissing. Stiles looked to the light, which definitely had been on when they started, and now weren’t. He glanced at Derek. 

“Oops?” he said. Derek laughed and pulled him back into a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had practically finished the last chapter but I didn't feel satisfied with it so of course I had to rewrite it and I practically doubled the word count!
> 
> Thank you everyone who have left comments and kudos, it have really meant a lot! I hope that you liked the conclusion of the story!

**Author's Note:**

> I have just read so many awesome Magical Stiles Stilinski fics lately as well as rewatched season 3b, so obviously I am in a void!Stiles mood.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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